Sætta
by StarsInTheRiver
Summary: Loki was killed in the battle of new york, and reincarnated as a young boy. Although he remembers nothing but a few blurred memories at first, the arrival of old enemies seeking revenge awakens the worst of them. Now, in order to keep his life, he must earn the trust of the avengers, his brother, and himself. Some graphic violence and language. Avengers all living in Stark Tower.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm so sorry, brother."

"Loki!" His brother took one last regretful look at Thor, before turning and walking straight into the Tessaract portal, his magic counteracting the magic shielding it. He reached forward and grasped the cube, before disappearing in a blinding explosion of blue light. Above them, the portal collapsed inward and around them the Chitauri started to fall, But Thor's eyes were fixed on the spot where his brother had been. The light cleared and his eyes adjusted, leaving him staring at the blackened metal portal frame, and a charred golden helmet lying in the dust.

* * *

"Wake up, Boy!"

The young boy lying on the steps of an old shop was rudely awakened by a kick to the ribs. He jumped up, glaring at his assaulter. But when he saw him raise the heavy rolling pin, he turned and scurried away.

_'What was I doing there?'_ he wondered as he turned into the busy street. _'I don't remember lying down...'_

He searched his mind, trying to remember anything. Nothing came to mind. He stopped suddenly, realizing just how little he could recall. There had been light, then... he had woken up. Nothing else. _'I don't know my name. Do I have a name?' _

Looking around frantically, he ran towards a dark window. His own reflection stared back at him, and although it seemed right he didn't recall having seen it before. He looked like he might be eleven or twelve, with pitch-black hair that fell around his ears and bright, curious green eyes. He was dressed in a plain black t-shirt, with torn blue jeans and scrappy yellow tennis shoes. He searched his pockets, but there was no money or identification.

"Hey, boy! Get outta the way! He jumped to the side just in time to avoid being thrown to the curb by a speeding bicycle.

He finally took a look around and surveyed the place he had inexplicably found himself. The streets of the city were bustling with people, even though it appeared to be quite early in the morning. Cars rushed by, and pedestrians shoved past the small boy as they hurried to work. He turned and walked along with the flow of activity to avoid being trampled, while trying to figure out what to do next. He had no money, no name, no memory. His stomach felt empty, and he knew that he needed to eat soon.

The smell of something frying drew him a ways down the street and towards a metal cart selling some sort of sausage. The sign on the side read 'two dollars'. The nearness of the food only made the pains in his stomach increase, and he started racking his brain for a way to pay for a meal. Glancing around, his eyes landed on a man standing alone and fumbling with a camera. A tourist, judging by the expensive jeans and the unfortunately pattered shirt. Out of his back pocket, a glimpse of green caught his gaze.

_That's just lazy. He's practically begging for someone to take it! _The boy reasoned with himself as he walked towards the tall man, aiming his path to pass directly behind him. His hands were quick, and he slid the slip of paper from the jean pocket easily. The movement came naturally to him, as though he had done it a thousand times. _Not really a skill someone with no remembered past wants to discover._

When he had walked a reasonable distance from his victim, he examined the bill clutched in his hands. Twenty. That would definitely buy him breakfast, and with luck he could draw it out until he could figure out what the hell he was going to do.

Walking up to the food stand, he handed his money to the vendor.

"Hey there." The man said as he counted his change. "Where're your parents? It's not safe for a kid to be wandering around alone."

Without a moment of hesitation, the boy smiled charmingly up at him. "My mom's with me. She stepped into a shop and said I could buy myself breakfast. "

"Ok. Better not leave her for too long." He smiled at the kid, handing him his money and his food before turning back to his cart.

Brushing his hair from his eyes, the boy walked off, taking an eager bite of the meat as he walked along the sidewalk. He passed dozens of stores and alleyways, but none of them seemed like a place to start. He tossed the greasy napkin into a trash can, and spotted a flyer taped to the telephone pole it was leaning against.

HELPER NEEDED. ANY AGE CAN APPLY.

An address was scrawled beneath, and glancing up and down the street he saw a match. _Maggie's used books. I can work with that. _

He crossed the street and walked quickly over to the store. A green wooden sign had the name carved into it, and it the windows were covered by heavy black curtains. Stopping in front, he looked himself over in the dark glass. His hair was ragged and too long to look neat. He ran his fingers through it in a vain attempt to get it away from his eyes, but only succeeded in mussing it more. He wiped the grease from his meal off onto his jeans, straightened his shirt, and pulled open the heavy door.

A bell quietly rang above his head as he lightly stepped in to the shop. Soft, warm light came from lamps placed randomly on shelves, amongst the books, which covered every inch of available space. The room was small, and three of the walls were almost entirely lined with shelves. Five more tall shelves created rows in the middle of the store, and in the corner there was a desk. A young woman sat there, with her feet propped up on the wood and a laptop balanced against her legs. The store was dark for a book store, but the screen illuminated her face. She had long, wavy brown hair and blue eyes. She was kind of pretty, but not strikingly. She looked up when he closed the door and smiled at him.

"Hi! Can I help you?"

He ran his fingers through his hair one last time. "Yes, actually. I saw a sign down the street. Helper needed?"

"Oh, ok!" She scrambled to put the computer down and stand up. "You're the first one to come by." Looking closer at him, she frowned. "How old are you? I know I said age doesn't matter, because it's technically not a real job, but I'd feel bad keeping a nine year old kid cooped up in here with me for a few bucks."

"I'm not nine!" he replied indignantly. "I'm.. Twelve." He picked the age because it was probably the oldest he could pass for, and he had no idea what his real age was. "I can work, I don't mind being indoors."

"I can't really pay you much, you know. Maybe ten dollars a day or something. I just need someone to organize and sweep, stuff like that."

"That's fine," he said immediately, "I just need a job." Ten dollars a day would feed him. That was priority.

"Ok… if you're sure." Leaning on the edge of her desk, she surveyed the scrappy boy in front of her. He was skinny, but his eyes were bright. "What's your name?"

_Crap. Why didn't I think of that? _He cast his mind around for a name, any name at all. "Luke." He had no idea why he'd said that, and it didn't sound quite right to him. But it felt half familiar on his tongue, and he supposed it would work.

"Alright then, Luke. Do you think you can start today?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He figured politeness was best, as he was now relying on this woman for money.

"Oh, don't call me that. It's Maggie. And in that case, you can start over here. Some jackasses decided that none of the books they were looking at needed to be put back where they went." She gestured to a small stack of maybe fifteen books in a pile near her desk. "Could you put them back on the shelves? Things are organized by type, and then author name." Remembering how young he was, she added, "Do you want me to show you?"

"It's ok. I'll figure it out." He walked over to the books, grabbing three. He was small for twelve, she thought, and his thin fingers looked strange gripping the heavy leather covers. Green eyes examined the spine seriously before he turned and disappeared behind a shelf. Slowly, she sat back down at her desk. _What a weird kid. _

'Luke' Walked along the biographies shelf, scanning for the name Mark Twain. Ten dollars a day was pretty good, considering he couldn't legally get a job. As he slid the book into place, the quiet of the room and the calmness of his activity were allowing the events of the day to finally sink in. _I have no idea who I am. I have literally no memories. I have no home, and no family. Who the hell am I, and what the hell happened to me?_ His hands shook slightly as he read the next book spine. The Time Machine, Wells, science fiction. _I'm probably going to freak out about this later. _

The shelves were a good two feet taller than him, maybe more, and he had to stretch to slide the book into place. He distracted himself by getting through the stack of books as quickly as possible, trying to avoid thinking about his predicament. When he was done, Maggie had him sit next to her desk and put stickers on books according to genre. They sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being her keyboard and the sound of books being moved and the occasional page being flipped.

"Hey, Luke. What time do you need to be home by?"

The boy set his book down carefully. "I don't." Quickly realizing that this was a fairly suspicious answer, he added, "I mean my parents don't really care. I usually just wander around the city during the day. This is way better." This was as close to the truth as he was willing to go. He knew that telling her he was homeless and without family would cause her to want nothing to do with him, and he needed money. He didn't look up to gauge her reaction, instead flipping open the next book to look for genre.

Maggie stopped typing to stare at the boy. What kind of twelve year old was left alone all day? And what kid would rather spend his time in a dark room than out in the city? He continued to work as though he hadn't said anything unusual, still focused and quiet. She hadn't really looked that closely at him before, and little things were starting to pop out. The hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a month. The raggedy jeans, the pale thinness of his arms. He sat up perfectly straight as he worked, and there was a smoothness in his movements that was strange to see in a twelve year old boy. There was something off about him, and it drew her towards him. She had always had a bit of a problem with curiosity, and hoped that keeping the kid on wouldn't come back to bite her later.

* * *

This fic is going to be for NaNoWriMo, so it may seem like I rush a bit. Sorry about that, but I promise my writing will improve as I get into it. I haven't written a word in months. This chapter will likely get fixed up a bit sometime in the next week, before friday when I'll update the next chapter.

I'd love it f you reviewed, I need all the help, suggestions, and encouragement i can get.


	2. Chapter 2

The books took the intently focused boy about two hours to complete. He hadn't moved or stopped working once, and once he had finished he looked up at Maggie expectantly.

"Jeez, Luke. You work faster than I do. You can take a break, I don't actually have that much for you do. You don't have to be around the store for more than a few hours, really, it's not that busy."

He glanced at his hands before responding. "Is it alright if I hang out here? I'll be quiet, I just don't have anywhere else to be."

She was looking at him strangely, but she nodded. "Hey, if you're going to be here, would you mind running across the street and getting snacks?" She reached into a drawer and sifted through the contents for several moments before pulling out a five-dollar bill. "There's a café. Just get me a medium lemonade, and whatever you want for yourself."

Carefully, he reached up and room the money from her outstretched fingers. He stood clumsily, his legs numb from sitting for so long, walked over to the heavy door and pulled it open.

The sunlight was blinding, although the cool air felt good after the warmth of the store. Squinting, he adjusted to the noise of outside. As soon as there were no cars he ran across the street and into the small café. The smell of pastries and coffee immediately hit him, and he breathed in deeply. It wasn't a familiar scent, but it still managed to be comforting. Walking up to the glass counter, he stared at all the choices before him. Most of the little cakes and breads were not familiar to him, and he had almost no idea what his own food preferences were. Eventually he choice a round bun topped with creamy icing, ordered the lemonade, and walked out clutching his purchases. Back on the sidewalk, he stopped. He nibbled on his snack as he gazed around him. He had seen the street already, and his eyes slid to the sky, staring at the towering buildings of the main city a ways off. He was admiring the stone and metal of the skyline when one building in particular caught his gaze. It wasn't at all menacing, but something about sleek curving of the side and the cold blue lights around the top sent a shiver down the boy's spine.

He returned to the bookstore. Handing Maggie her drink, he tried to be casual. "Do you know the name of that weird tower in the city? The tall one, with the blue words."

"Stark tower? 'Course I know it. How do you not?"

He shrugged and slumped against the wall. _Stark Tower… Why does that name sound familiar? _The sound of the name was filling him with a horrible, twitchy feeling, so he distracted himself by continuing to work on his snack. It worked, as it was the most delicious thing he could ever remember tasting.

Neither person said much for the rest of the day. The dark haired little boy spent most of the remaining time huddled in a corner with a book he had found, and startling customers when they noticed him. Maggie stayed at her desk, occasionally throwing glances in his direction or asking him to do a quick job. When closing time came around, she handed him ten dollars, and watched him walk off. He didn't go in the direction of the only nearby apartments, as she had expected, but back towards the stores. She stood there for several minutes, pulling her coat tightly around her against the cold, until she saw his black t-shirt disappear inside a Wal-Mart.

* * *

The cold had already gotten to the skinny boy, and he knew if he was going to make it through the night he would need a way to keep warm. HE stepped into a large store that looked like it could sell just about anything. He was greeted with the sight of several coat racks marked SALE, right by the entrance. There weren't many in his size, but he eventually settled on a long black one. It seemed thick, and the length would keep more of him covered. The price tag read twenty five dollars. This would leave him only three dollars left for food, but an icy gust of wind blowing in through the open door settled it. He would much rather go hungry for a while than freeze to death in an alley somewhere. As he paid for the coat, his eyes wandered to the food for sale by the cash register. Two dollars for either a bag of chips or a bottle of water. Casting his mind back, he realized that he had had nothing at all to drink that day. His stomach growled at him, but he knew there were priorities. Grabbing the plastic bottle and placing it on the counter, he reluctantly handed over his remaining money. The cashier handed him his one remaining dollar, and he pushed it into the pocket of his new coat. Pulling it over his shoulders, he noticed that it was slightly too large, but the fabric was just as warm as it had felt. He twisted the cap of the water bottle open as he walked back outside, shuddering as the rapidly cooling air hit him. He raised the bottle to his lips and drank nearly half of it before stopping for breath. The water hadn't been chilled, and he was grateful. A cold drink was not something he needed right now. He stuffed the rest into his pocket for later. Clutching the coat tightly to his thin frame, he walked down the street in search of a place sheltered enough to sleep. The sun was rapidly setting, and the temperature continued to drop. Around him, people were closing up shops, turning off lights, pulling on jackets. He watched them walk home, laughing and chatting as they did.

Watching the rest of the world, for the first time that day, his situation truly hit him. Hard. His head spun slightly, and he stumbled over to a building. He gasped for breath as he clutched the brick wall. _I'm all alone in the middle of a city. I don't even know what city it is! I don't have a name, or a home, or, as far as I know, anything at all_. His legs started shaking, and he staggered into the alley between two short brick buildings. No way he was going to keep walking.

The boy collapsed with his back pushed up against a dumpster, pulling his legs tightly to his chest. _Don't panic, dummy. You're not helping things at all. _He pressed his forehead to his knees, trying to calm himself. _You'll work through this. You just need to keep it together until you can figure out what happened. Where you came from._

He stayed like this for a long time, almost completely wrapped in his coat and nestled in the corner between a solid wall and the metal behind him. With his hair falling forward and black fabric draped over his shoes, he was barely visible. Had anyone glanced into the alleyway, they would have mistaken the resting boy for a shadow.

* * *

Yes, I said I would update next week. But sundays actually work better for me, so I'll start updating around this time every sunday. Thank you to the four of you who reviewed, love you. Any suggestions, comments, or advice is appreciated. Reviews make my day, so please please please just take thirty seconds to help me out:)

Wish me luck with catching up to my word count!


	3. Chapter 3

_"No, Loki." There was blinding light, a voice of someone he loved calling out to him; then darkness. He lay somewhere cold, his entire body aching. Dark forms shifted around the edges of his vision, and he tried to twist to see them. Lightning pains shot up his spine and through his limbs, causing him to cry out. _

_"Hello, little prince." There was a face, crinkled and red and grinning like a madman. "Where did you come from?" Hands grabbed him from all sides, pulling him upright and sending the blinding, crippling pain through him again. He heard screams. Were they his? The whole world was shaking and spinning, and the horrible red face filled his vision. A huge hand gripped his forearm. It must have been broken, and this time the scream was definitely his. He felt it ripped from his throat as the hand squeezed harder and the bones grated together. Forget broken, his arm felt shattered. "He will heal. He has magic." The voice belonging to the terrifying face, and it grated at his ears as he continued. "Bring him. I believe he could be the key we've been looking for." Long black hair fell in front of his face as he tried to protest, but the hands grabbed him roughly and he was pulled along to god knows where. The pain was agonizing, and it took over his every nerve until the world faded into black around him._

* * *

The young boy curled on the ground woke with a start, shaking violently and with tears running down his face. The air was still absolutely freezing, despite the paling sky in the east, and the sudden awakening had allowed the warm air to escape from his tightly wrapped coat. The pain from his dream still seemed to linger, even though he was awake, and the fear was still coursing through him. _Just a dream. It was just a dream. _He sat there, shivering, until all that was left of the dream was a dull ache and a sense of uneasiness. His limbs were numb from the cold, and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, so he stood and walked shakily back on to the street. There was no one around yet, as the sun had barely breached the horizon. He scanned the street for a place to get warm. This street was really the only thing in his memory, so he wasn't going to forget it any time soon, and most of the buildings were already familiar. Almost all of the store windows were dark, but a little ways away a glimmering 'open' sign caught his eye. Squinting, he made out the small café he had visited the day before, and there was light coming from the window. Coffee had been the main thing on the menu, of course they would open early.

The freezing numbness had spread since getting up; it now covered his face and most of his arms and legs. Walking helped, but he was still eager to get inside the warm shop. Maybe he could even afford something hot to drink with his remaining dollar. As he hurried down the quickly brightening street, his eyes turned up again. Stark tower gleamed bright orange from the light of the sunrise. The sight was still familiar, but no matter how much he tried to recall anything about the building all he got was a feeling of loss. He shook the sensation off as he crossed the street and pushed open the glass doors.

The warm air washing over him was, without a doubt, the most amazing thing he had ever felt. He closed his eyes as it touched every bit of him and drove out the ice that seemed to have seeped into his veins. He walked up to the counter to look at the menu. It was unlikely that there was anything for under a dollar, but he decided to ask just in case.

"Exc-" His inquiry was cut off as a violent fit of coughing came from nowhere. He hadn't spoken aloud since yesterday afternoon, and the sound tickled his already slightly sore throat. Sleeping on the freezing ground probably hadn't done much for his health, either. "Sorry," he mumbled to the concerned looking man behind the counter. "I just wanted to know if there was anything I could get for a dollar?"

There wasn't, but the young man, whose nametag read John, couldn't bring himself to turn the pale little kid away. He was still shaking from the cold, despite the heated air inside and his long coat.

"I'll see what I can do. Hot chocolate ok?"

The shivering child couldn't quite recall if he liked chocolate, but he was willing to try anything. He fumbled in his deep pockets for his dollar and handed it, slightly crumpled, to the man.

"Take a seat. I'll bring it to you, there's no one else here." John flattened out the bill and put it in his pocket. He would pay for the boy's drink later.

The boy in question was sitting at a glass table, being frustrated by the fact that his feet didn't touch the floor. His fingers and toes were beginning to burn as the feeling returned to them, and he was feeling the effects of his night outside. Sniffling, he tucked his head into his arms and waited. He felt much younger than he had yesterday. His confidence was wavering after his brief panic the night before, and his stomach was twisting painfully. He felt kind of sick, although it was probably just the cold and would wear off soon.

The table had been scratched at some point, and there was a long line carved into the blue glass. The boy traced his still burning fingers carefully along it, the coolness soothing them. He hummed softly to try and clear his throat, a tune from somewhere in the back of his mind. As he waited, his thoughts drifted back to his dream. It had been strangely disorienting, but he remembered every second. A shudder ran up his back as he recalled the horrible pain and the leering red face. The only good thing about the entire experience had been that voice calling out as he fell. The tone of voice had been terrified and heartbroken as it screamed out to him, but it still somehow comforted him. It seemed like the most familiar thing in the world, and filled him with a strong sense of safety.

"So, what's a kid doing up and around at six fifteen in the morning?"

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" His dark hair swung into his eyes as he looked up at the man holding two disposable cups and sitting down across from him. "Oh, um..." He was tired, and unlike yesterday he had to think for a moment before the lie slipped easily off his tongue. "My parents go to work early. I couldn't get back to sleep after they left, so I took a walk."

He reached greedily for the steaming cup John slid across the table towards him. The hot foam cup warmed his hands, which were still cold despite the blood that had returned feeling to them. The chocolate was tantalizing, but the steam that rose from the top said that he would scorch his tongue if he tried to taste it. "Thank you."

"Sure." His eyes scanned over the kid clutching the cup like it was made of gold. He was still shaking, although not quite as much as before. His hair wasn't exactly well groomed, but then again neither was any other young boy's hair. Somehow his solemn way of conducting himself had him expecting the kid to seem older in other ways as well, but despite his careful sentences and respectful tone he couldn't be more than twelve. His long black coat seemed fairly new, but fit loosely on his shoulders. Something about him was off, though, and he couldn't help himself from voicing a few questions.

"I've never seen you around before, and I know pretty much everyone on the block. You just move here?"

"Mmm hmm." The thin stirring straw entranced him as he stirred it to make little whirlpools in the dark brown drink.

He wasn't really paying attention to John, his stomach crying out desperately for food now that he could smell the variety of pastries and coffees in the shop. He looked longingly over at the displays, half wishing he had taken more money from the tourist yesterday.

The older man sighed. The kid was starving, clearly, and he wouldn't get answers out of him while his stomach was controlling his mind.

"Hey, if I buy you a roll, will you focus on the conversation?"

Green eyes immediately shot up to stare at him. "Really? You'd buy me one?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. If you'll talk to me. It gets boring up here, before people start showing up."

The first smile he'd seen on the boy's face lit up his pale features.

"Conversation sounds good."

The sun was glaring off the windows, as the sun had at some point broken over the tops of the low buildings. John ran fingers through his blonde hair as he watched the boy devour the sweet bread like it was the first thing he had eaten in days. The hot chocolate had cooled enough for him to gulp it down, which he was doing enthusiastically in between bites. He wasn't a messy or impolite eater, despite the speed. He chewed with his mouth closed and barely dropped a crumb, and swallowed before taking another bite_. What a weird kid._

"So. Let's start simple. What's your name?"

The boy finished his bite and took a breath before answering. "I'm Luke." The name from yesterday stuck firmly in his mind. Hearing himself say it out loud, though, triggered another flashback from his dream. The first voice, of an old man, saying words that had seemed to break his heart although he didn't know why._ No, Loki._

Loki. What, or probably who, was Loki? And why was he dreaming about him? With no memories, it would make sense to dream about what he knew from the past two days. Or even whoever he had been before, if that was still buried in his brain somewhere. But the void and the strange name didn't fit anywhere into the real world. And if it had been nothing but a fantasy, why was it sticking with him so clearly? _No, Loki_. Loki, Luke. Great, now he'd never forget the dream, as long as his chosen name reminded him of it.

"Luke. Luke!" John snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face, trying to rouse him from his trance. The shout brought him back around. "Huh?"

"I asked you where you used to live before here. You a little tired?"

The kid rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Tired." He hadn't thought about what to say if anyone asked where he'd been before, so he blurted out the first thing to jump into his head. "I used to live in the city, near Stark tower." The building was one of the only places he knew, so his options were limited , but he still regretted saying it. The building gave him a feeling he didn't quite understand, and he'd prefer to think about it as little as possible.

"Oh." The man nodded knowingly. "Did you guys move after the whole alien deal?"

Luke stared blankly.

"Oh, c'mon. You can't not know about the battle of New York, especially living near Stark tower."

His expression remained uncomprehending and slightly shocked.

"Wow, seriously? Ok. There was kind of an alien attack on the city, like, less than a month ago. It demolished half the city. There were superheroes, and aliens, and some man with a crazy helmet and a cape." He looked in wonder at the stunned kid. "I have no idea how you didn't know. Where you lived, your apartment could have been blasted apart."

Struggling to summon words, the child stuttered, "I- I stayed inside most of the time. And we didn't have a TV."

_Aliens. _He didn't know much about himself or the environment he found himself in, but he had basic knowledge of how things were. And this knowledge was telling him that aliens were not real.

John shook his head. "That is really weird."

His companion seemed uncomfortable with the topic, so he switched it. "So, you have plans for the rest of your day?"

The bright eyes snapped out of a wide-eyed stare, and focused upward at the clock. "Actually, yeah. I'm helping out over there." He gestured towards the book store across the street. "Do you know I what time it opens?"

"Seven thirty. I don't know why she opens so early, no one's buying books on a Saturday morning."

The clock currently read nearly eight o'clock. "I should really go, then. I don't have to be there for a while, but I'd like to be early." He climbed out of the chair, his sneakers hitting the floor with a dull thump. "Thank you for breakfast. You'll probably see me again tomorrow, but I'll have money then." He tossed his empty cup into the trash can as he walked towards the door. "Goodbye."

John watched him open the heavy glass door open with some amusement. "Bye, Luke." Watching him glance for oncoming cars before stumbling across the street, he though to himself, _What a weird kid._

* * *

**This chapter was a bit longer than normal. I couldn't find a good place to stop:)  
**

**Sunday evening works well for me, so I'm sticking with it. I'll usually update right around this time, unless something comes up. Next week might be a little late because of thanksgiving break, but I promise I'll get it in on sunday. **

**As usual, every single review helps, ****especially advice or suggestions. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, or favorited. I love you all.**


	4. Chapter 4

Maggie looked up in surprise as the bell on the door rang. Sunlight illuminated the floor, and Luke carefully walked in. Glancing at her computer, she noticed that it was barely eight.

"You're up early." As her eyes readjusted, she took in the long coat wrapped around him, and the tired look in his eyes.

"Yeah, I've been walking around. The man who works across the street is nice, he bought me breakfast."

He felt no obligation to lie to her more than he had to. Maggie had been kinder to him than she had to be, and he appreciated it. "I figured I'd come here, as it's too cold to hang around outside. Is that ok?" He was suddenly worried that he might be a nuisance if he spent too much time in the shop. As a maybe-twelve year old in the middle of a city, he was extremely lucky to have found a way to make any money at all. He'd rather spend most of his day outside in the cold with some food than all of it outside in the cold and starving.

The dark haired woman saw fear flit quickly across the pale boy's face as he asked permission to stay. She covered up her concern with nonchalance. "Of course. As long as you're not knocking over shelves and driving people away, you can stay in here however long you want."

Relieved, he walked over to the wooden floor beside her desk. The book he had carefully tucked into the shelf beside him the day before was still there, and after taking off his coat and laying it over the cold floor he pulled it out and settled down with it in his lap.

He looked exhausted, even more now that the coat wasn't covering him. His arms seemed skinnier than they had been yesterday, and as ghostly pale as his face. His hair wasn't as clean as the day before, and he seemed to be wearing the same clothes. His eyes were slightly red, with traces of dark shadows underneath. Looking closely, she could see his fingers shaking every time he picked them up to turn a page, and every few minutes he would sniffle or cough quietly.

"You ok, Luke?"

He jumped slightly when she addressed him. He had been deeply buried in his book. "Y-yeah. Just a little tired, I guess."

The shaking had spread to his arms, even though he held them tightly against his torso. Maggie gave him a long look. "Are you cold?"

The boy shrugged. _Of course he's cold. It's November in New York, and you hardly heat this place at all. You have on two sweaters, he's barely got a t-shirt_. Swiveling her chair, the young woman reached into the corner behind her desk and grabbed a thick wool blanket she kept for when the heat went out. It had been sitting there for over a year, untouched except when she moved it to clean.

"Here Wrap up." She tossed the red blanket. His reflexes were surprisingly quick, and he caught it.

After a brief hesitation, he wrapped the brightly colored fabric around his shoulders and pulled it tight around himself. "Thank you" he mumbled.

Hours passed, and before long it was almost noon. A few dozen people had wandered in, a few bought something. The little boy had fixed the books after a few inconsiderate customers, but the blanket remained wrapped around him the entire time. It had been a while since anyone had stopped by, so Maggie figured she'd send Luke out for lunch. She turned around, the words already half out of her mouth, to find him curled on his side cocooned in the heavy scarlet cloth. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even and light. Asleep, he looked even younger, maybe ten years old. The book he'd been reading was clutched against his chest and his fingers were holding his place.

Looking at him resting on her floor, the young woman realized she was starting to get attached to the boy. Maybe it was just compassion for a child in what didn't seem to be a great situation, but there was definitely something drawing her to protect him. Or at the very least let him sleep.

So, sandwiches from the mini-fridge it was.

Maggie ate her sandwich in silence, a book pulled on to her knees and a Pepsi balanced on her stomach. There were never customers around lunch, so she had gotten out of her chair and was curled into the corner behind her desk when she heard the red bundle near her feet start to murmur softly. She glanced up at him, concerned by his tone of voice.

"Thor… please…" his fingers gripped the blanket so hard that the knuckles were turning white, but his eyes remained shut. "Brother, I'm sorry…"

His legs were twitching as he rolled over, still mumbling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He was having some sort of nightmare. "Hey, Luke." She put the book on the floor beside her and reached over to shake his leg. "Wake up."

The second her fingers touched him, he jumped like he had been shocked. "NO!" he half shouted as he jerked awake. His eyes were wide and terrified as they stared around at the quiet shop, and his breaths were ragged and heavy.

Maggie reached out a hand, trying to calm him. "You ok?"

Slowly, the boy realized where he was. His face was still white, and she swore she could see tears in his bright green eyes, but he wasn't panicking. He actually seemed embarrassed that he had fallen asleep, and ducked his head. He picked up his book and he stared at the cover. "Yeah. Sorry."

She frowned at him. "You don't have to apologize for falling asleep. There's no one here, you didn't have anything better to do. " He continued to stare intently at the book, so she dropped it, sliding him a sandwich on a paper plate instead. "I made lunch. Eat if you want."

Shaky fingers reached out from under the red fabric to grab the sandwich, although he remained silent. Maggie went back to her book. He'd be better once he woke up a bit more.

* * *

_Bright crimson covered his vision as he was tackled. "Loki, you have to move faster than that!" Tearing the red cape away from his eyes, the black haired, green clothed child stared up at the boy sitting on his chest. _

_"Thor, you know I can't outrun you. Lets play something I'm good at for once. And take the cape off, you look ridiculous." _

_"No! I look like a prince. At least I'm not wearing a necklace." The golden haired boy plucked at the chain around his brother's neck playfully before climbing off of him. "What do you want to play, then?"_

_"It helps with my magic, and it looks fine." Despite his words, he tucked the pendant back into his tunic. "Hide and seek?"_

_Thor shrugged his consent and covered his eyes, counting down from twenty. Loki ran off, grinning mischievously. This was a game he could win __any day._

_The scene shifted. The brothers were still there, but they were much older. Their surroundings were blurry, but a cloudy sky was visible. _

_"Loki, you have to stop this. I know you don't want to kill all these people. Turn off the Tessaract, and come home. Please." Thor held his brother tightly by the back of the neck as he pleaded with him. Loki looked back at him, unshed tears shining in his blue eyes. _

_"I can't. It's too late to stop it." Thor shoved his younger brother to the side and walked towards the glowing structure to the side. His huge hands pushed against the force field surrounding it, but it pushed back with a flash of light. "Thor, it's made of energy. It will kill you before you break through it." The blonde man pushed against it again. "Brother, stop it." He was ignored. "Thor!" He ran to his brother, pulling his hands back. _

_"If you will not stop it then I must try. It is my duty to this realm." He drew back the hammer in his hand as if to strike the barrier, but a pale hand on his shoulder stopped him. _

_"Thor, please. You will achieve nothing but your own death."_

_"Then why will you not do it for me? I know that you can."_

_Loki stared at him, green eyes pleading for a way out, before finally relenting. "I'll do it, but on one condition."_

_"What would that be?"_

_"You do not try to get me out of this alive" And with those words, he turned and pushed into the energy. Looking his brother in the eyes, he called out one last apology, and plunged his hand into the heart of the portal. A brief moment of flames, and then darkness._

_"You have failed me, Asgardian." The red face from his previous dream was suddenly there, terrifyingly near, hissing at him. "You will pay."_

* * *

The boy did return to normal, after several hours of sorting through and alphabetizing a large stack of papers. The monotonous task allowed him to focus and clear his mind. He didn't do much talking, but responded when spoken to and politely said goodbye when the store closed at five. Ten dollars in his pocket, he walked towards the store. He knew exactly what he wanted. The air wasn't yet freezing, but he knew it would be tonight. He had nearly frozen the night before, and he could feel himself getting sick. Sickness coupled with his current eating and sleeping arrangements could have awful effects.

Once in the store, it took him the better part of an hour to find a blanket that was the perfect balance between warm and cheap, eventually deciding on a fluffy green throw blanket for six dollars.

In the food isle, with the blanket draped over his arm, he tried to figure out a three dollar meal. Two had to be saved for breakfast tomorrow, but finding cheap foods that would serve as dinner was proving to be a challenge. He sifted through cans of soup and vegetables, trying to pick something healthy that he could afford. A can of store brand chicken soup ended up being chosen, and the half bottle of water from the day before would work as a drink.

He paid the cashier and walked back outside. The blanket remained in his hands, although his other purchases fit into his pockets. It was barely six in the evening, far too early to settle down for the night. _I wonder if there's somewhere warm I can eat. I haven't really seen much of… wherever I am, other than this street. And I've only really looked at a few of the shops here. There has to be somewhere I can just sit down, right?_

The Wal-Mart he had just exited was about halfway down the street. He had seen pretty much everything to the right, and other than the café and the bookstore there were only a few places open. To the left, however, he could see at least ten glowing windows, most of which looked promising. As he turned, he could see that at least half of the open stores were restaurants, which meant unless he ordered something he couldn't go in. As he walked down the street, his eyes fell on a closed store, with tables out front next to a Laundromat. _That'll do. Not warm, but a table is better than the ground._

The chair was cold metal, so he draped his blanket over the seat to soften it. The dark haired boy crossed his legs as he pulled the tab off of the can. He looked out at the street, which still had a fair amount of traffic, watching the warmly dressed groups of people walk home in the dimming light. _They all look so secure_, he though to himself. _And here I am, happy because I have dinner and something soft to sleep on. That can't be right. _The soup vanished quickly as he drank it from the can, and although it was salty and thin it was the most he had eaten all day and he appreciated every drop. _Three meals today. I'd better not get used to it, I cant really afford to eat this much. _

He remained perched on the chair for several more minutes, watching the sun sink lower in the sky and the crowds thin out. Eventually he stood, tossing the empty can into a trash can and gathering his blanket. His gaze wavered to the Laundromat next door, then down at himself. He had no way of knowing when anything he was wearing had last been cleaned. Both the shirt and pants felt fairly clean, but it had been at the very least two days since he had put them on. Probably more.

With a sigh, he turned and entered. There was no way he was going to completely strip down, but as these were, at the moment, his only clothes he could be shirtless for a while. He'd probably have to go hungry for a few days, but he needed another set of clothes soon. Dropping his blanket and coat onto a bench, the boy peeled off the solid black shirt before removing his shoes and socks as well. The price on the machine was a dollar, which only left him one to buy soap from the vending machine. _There goes breakfast._

The machine rumbled in the background as he flipped through a magazine he had found. The raven-haired boy was sprawled across the bench, his blanket wrapped around him and his bare feet hanging off the end. He had already washed his face and neck in the restroom, all he had left to do was wait for the clothes. The building was mostly empty at this time of night, so no one disturbed him. He was casually scanning the pages of TIME magazine, stopping every once and a while when an article caught his attention. Bored, he tossed it down and picked up another issue. This one was more recent, maybe a month old. The picture on the cover was what had caught his eye. The heading on the top read **'Heroes among us'** in white print, and standing proudly underneath was a man in a somewhat ridiculous skintight outfit. A red white and blue shield matched his clothes, and he stared confidently out of the photo with intense blue eyes.

Something about the picture sent a jolt up the boy's spine. He knew that man. Quickly, he opened the magazine and located the article mentioned on the front. 'Aliens in New York.' On the first page, under the red letters of the title, there was a picture of six people in costumes. He stared at them individually, a shiver of recognition running through him with each one. Beneath that, however, there were emotions that he couldn't quite explain associated with each intent face. A red haired woman, labeled as the Black Widow, gave a sense of shame. The blonde man to her right, Hawkeye, regret. For the blonde man on the front and another wearing a red suit of metal (Captain America and Iron man, he noted) there was uneasiness. The angry green beast that stood behind them all sent genuine terror through him, and he looked away quickly. It was the last man, though, that made him truly stop. He wore armor, varying shades of silver and grey, with a red cape fastened to his shoulders. His silver winged helmet was out of place among the other more modern outfits, yet to him it seemed more normal than the rest. Looking at him gave the boy a completely unreasonable sense of home. There was sadness too, but the warm feeling was much stronger.

The magazine called him Thor.

_Thor...why do I know that..._ And for the second time that day his dreams flashed back to him, completely knocking him out of the present moment. Falling through space, a friendly face laughing at a joke, the same face with tears in the eyes begging him to stop. This man had been in his dreams. Why did he have a superhero in his dreams? Why did he know these people at all? Twelve years old and homeless, with nothing but fuzzy memories of a bunch of superheroes. Fantastic.

His fingers reached over to turn the page, but he was stopped as the washing machine dinged to a stop.

Scrambling to grab the quarters he had left on the table, the kid transferred the clothes to a drier. He didn't even bother to settle down properly before grabbing the corner of the article and flipping to the next page. What he saw nearly stopped his heart.

Perched on the top of the Stark Tower as a man, dressed in green and gold, with a sneer on his face and a spear in his hands.

Every muscle in his young body was frozen and he felt suddenly cold with dread. Every detail about the man was more familiar to him than his own face, but not in the warm way that the long haired superhero had been. Instead there was fear, disgust, and grudging acceptance. More and more emotions washed over him the longer he stared at the maniacally grinning face, none of which made sense together. Desperation, loneliness, pain, strength. He slammed the flimsy booklet shut, covering the face, although the panicked confusion stayed. It took nearly ten minutes before he had calmed enough to put the magazine down. Behind him the machine quietly alerted him that it had finished, and he moved to retrieve his clothes and put them back on with shaking fingers. His mind was almost completely numb as he attempted to process what had happened. Some things were twice as unclear as they had been before, but he now knew one thing for sure. The battle of New York, or whatever, he had seen firsthand. And judging from the fact that his reaction was not really that of a casual witness, his experience had not been a passive one.

He stumbled through the dark street, coat tied around his waist and blanket draped over his shoulders to block out the frozen wind. Superheroes, aliens... He had barely two days of experience with the world and already he was terrified and confused.

It couldn't be later than seven thirty when the still shaking boy collapsed in the alleyway, but he was still exhausted. Tonight he curled behind the metal dumpster, and it blocked most of the wind. That plus the extra protection of the blanket left him almost entirely covered and he was actually quite warm.

The temperature continued to drop, but only his exposed face and fingers felt the sting. They were quickly numb and red, but he barely noticed, still lost in thought about the magazine article.

_So I was in New York at the time. I guess this is New York? I probably should have guessed that before now, actually._ His hair fell back over his eyes as he slumped forward, his forehead pressing into his knees and his eyes tightly shut. _It doesn't mean anything about me, probably. This thing's been all over the news, everyone knows about them. That guy was taking over the city, of course seeing him would upset me. For all I know he killed someone close to me. Maybe he's the reason I'm in this situation at all!_ That didn't seem quite right. Emotions towards a cold-blooded killer, especially one who murdered a loved one, did not include pity. The fear and disgust made sense, but not the loneliness or that horrible trapped feeling. But the thought that he might have any relationship with this psychopath other that that of the victim was one he refused to entertain.

And the fear he felt seeing the pictures of the heroes, the uneasiness, scared him. _They were at the battle, I'm probably just associating them with what happened. They were, after all, killing things. _The explanation was shaky at best, but the boy clung to it. It was the closest thing to a past that he could accept, and although some part of him knew he was missing something big he ignored it. The dreams were temporarily pushed from his mind in the determination to believe that he was nothing more than an amnestic victim.

This was the last thought in his mind as he drifted off. He stayed perfectly still even as he slept, the only movement being his hair when the wind ruffled through it. Nine o'clock struck, and the alley was perfectly silent. Ten, and the quiet had spread to the street. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the whimpers started.

* * *

Sorry for being a bit late, its been a rough day. Trying to get back to familiar characters, hope you guys liked it.

Please, please review. Your reviews are what keeps me writing, seriously, so thank you to those who did and this extra long chapter is directed at you as a thank you. Also there was no where to stop it so i just kept writing.


	5. Chapter 5

_At first, there was nothing but darkness. A silent, total absence of light that filled the room to a breaking point and strengthened the fear in the eyes of the man crouched in the corner. Although nothing was visible, he was conscious of his surroundings, and they became clearer as the scene solidified in the mind of the dreaming boy. A cell, made entirely from rough rock and about seven feet wide in every direction, completely empty except for its sole occupant._

_He sat with his back pushed firmly into the sharp wall. His arms were suspended above his head in smooth silver chains and he wore nothing but a somewhat tattered pair of black pants. Long scraggly black hair partially obscured a gaunt and bleeding face, but the gleaming green eyes shone out in a terrified stare. His chest was a nightmare. Blistering red burn marks started at his left shoulder, sweeping down to his stomach and through the bloody mess of lashes and cuts that marred the pale skin. Every rib was visible and his spine dug into the jagged wall. His back was in similar condition as his chest, with the addition of the longer, bleeding gashes overlapping each other and covering the majority of the exposed skin. The most noticeable mark, however, was a symbol seared into the otherwise untouched flesh on his right shoulder. They were words, and although he couldn't see them he knew that the red letters read 'læging'. Disgrace. _

_There was a light, now, shining faintly from under the door and casting a faint white glow onto the man. In the strange way of dreams, the boy was both the terrified prisoner and an onlooker. The jangling of keys outside the door set him shaking violently and scrambling pitifully farther back into his corner, just as the mechanical white light flooded the tiny cell and blinded him. _

_The voices of the hulking figures that entered was hissing and rasping. "Look at this, the little prince is awake. Have you been waiting for us, runt?"_

_Desperation and humiliation were prevalent in the man's choked response. "Please, just leave me alone…" _

_"The prince begs. It seems as though it's finally learning." The creature's gray skin was dull even in the glaring light his partner held, although his pale silver garment shone dimly. "But to no avail." The cuffs holding his arms were unlocked, and the chaffed skin beneath was tightly grabbed. The rough gray hand dwarfed the bony wrists and no cuff was needed as the battered man was yanked to his feet and pulled out the door. He struggled for a moment, but a quick smack to the back of the head stilled him. "Our Asgardian cast-off seems to be beginning to realize his place, don't you think?" The two creatures laughed._

_The man between them ducked his head, but his next words were clear and calm. "My name," he said, "is Loki."_

* * *

The boy's own muffled scream woke him. He jolted upright, searching wide-eyed for a snarling grey monster before the frozen air reminded him where he was. It had been a nightmare. A horrible, bloody, vivid nightmare, but no more than that. He was fine.

The dream had gotten blurry after the guard had first struck him, and he was glad. He could remember enough to know that the rest hadn't been something he wanted to ever think about again. Although he was awake, pain still lingered from the creature's cruelty. His wrists ached where he had been strung from the ceiling, and he could almost feel fresh lashes on his shoulders and chest. He nearly removed his hands from the warmth of his blanket cocoon just to reach back and rub his shoulder to check that there wasn't in fact a word seared into it.

_At least you're not crying tonight. They're just stupid dreams, anyways, probably because you've been sleeping outside and almost freezing to death. Sleeping badly gives weird dreams, right? _

His own reasoning did nothing to slow his still pounding heart, but it did console him. Dreams meant nothing, and they would stop once he had somewhere warm to sleep. But for now… the sky was still completely dark without a hint of sunrise, and if he was interpreting the moon's position correctly dawn was hours away. As much as he didn't want to return to the almost certain terror that waited him the moment he dropped off he knew that without sleep he wouldn't be able to function properly the next day. He needed to keep working, he was lucky to have found a source of money and losing it would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do. So he reassumed the warmed position of curling his head onto his knees and tried to relax. It took him nearly an hour of trying to think about anything except the beady, reptile eyes of the monsters before his breathing steadied and he finally slept.

The sun didn't wake him the next morning, or the sounds of the first people starting their days. The sun was already overhead by the time a car horn of an irritated driver shook him from his sound sleep. He was shivering and absolutely freezing, but he still grinned as he stood. That had been close to six hours of uninterrupted, dream free rest. He felt like hell, but that was from the cold pavement and the cruel wind, not a paralyzing nightmare.

Not wanting to remove it entirely, the content boy wrapped the warm blanket around his shoulders like a cape as he left the alley and walked towards the bookstore. Breakfast money had gone to cleaning his clothes, but he didn't mind much. The aliens from the first dream seemed like a world away, and for nearly the first time since waking up on that doorstep he felt ok.

Today was Sunday, so the bookstore didn't open until nine. A clock outside wall of an empty building told him he had less than ten minutes.

_Wow. I slept a long time. Is that normal for my age? _As much as he knew about the way small bits of the world worked, he knew nearly nothing about twelve year old boys. Assuming he was twelve. It was a little strange, sure. But there were unfortunate gaps in his knowledge, as he had already found, so maybe his own specific physical needs were just one of them. He could figure it out.

_Maybe Maggie's already here. It opens in almost five minutes, why wouldn't she be? _He hesitated outside the door. _Maybe she'd get annoyed if I showed up too early. Should I wait?_

It was decided for him when the first drop of rain fell. Within seconds, the rain had become a downpour.

_Where the hell did this come from? I can still see the sun!_

But cold and wet was not something he could afford tonight, so he pulled the blanket off his back and stuffed it under his coat before knocking on the door. The cold wind felt like a knife on his rapidly dampening skin, and he prayed for Maggie to answer the door. By the time she did his hair was dripping wet and the coat had stopped letting the water slide off it.

"Shit, Luke, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you, are you ok? You look freezing." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the mercifully warm shop.

"Y-yeah, a bit." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get some of the icy water out. He drew his coat closer only to have the dampness soak through and chill him even more. The constant shaking was getting worse, and he was starting to notice a heaviness in his breathing that hadn't been there yesterday. A cough lingered in his chest, but he pushed it down. She might not let him stay if he seemed sick.

"C'mon, sit down. How long have you been out there?" He shrugged and followed to the back of the store, peeling of the wet coat. "Blanket's right there, wrap up." She noted the blanket, and the violent shaking as he folded his coat and neatly placed it against the wall. Underneath he still wore nothing but a t-shirt, which, although dry, seemed unusual for November. "It's starting to get really cold. I hear the temperature's going to drop below freezing tonight."

The boy felt his heart nearly stop at her words. Last night had been ok, barely. He still couldn't feel his fingers but his body heat had more or less stayed trapped with him. If it got any colder, though...

His good mood had mostly vanished at this point, and he slumped back as he pulled the blanket over himself.

He opened his mouth to ask for the previous night's temperature, for reference, but the words ticked his throat and he interrupted himself with a choked cough. It set off a violent coughing fit that lasted almost a minute and ended with him gasping for breath through a sore throat.

Maggie was officially worried. Luke was clearly sick, and what kind of parents sent a kid in this condition out? Especially one dressed as poorly as him. With a sigh, she sat herself down on the floor in front of him. He didn't look at her, choosing to stare at his hands while he tried to calm his ragged breathing.

"Luke, are you alright? Really. Don't lie." His only reply was a barely perceptible shrug. "I'm going to go across the street for a minute. Have you eaten today?" He stayed quiet. "I'm going to get drinks, and food if you need it. Tell me, have you eaten?"

He shook his head.

"I'll be back soon, and when I am you need to talk to me. Ok?"

She stood and walked out into the rain, leaving the boy shaking on the floor.

_I can't tell her I don't know who I am, she'll call a hospital or something. Why does she even care? I'm just some kid who works for her._ He briefly considered running, but a clap of thunder from outside reminded him he had nowhere to go where he wouldn't freeze to death._ If she finds out I don't have a family she'll call the police, and god knows where they'll take me._ He couldn't explain it, but the thought of someone else deciding his fate in such a permanent way terrified him. Alone and on the streets was better than sleeping in a warm place where he had no control.

_I'll answer her questions, if I can. If things start going bad, I'll run. If I surprise her I can probably make the street before she can catch me._ Somewhat sadly he folded his blanket. He'd liked it here, and he'd probably screwed it up. _Why did I have to cough? I could've stopped myself if I'd been paying attention..._

* * *

Shorter chapter this week. Now than NaNo's over and I no longer have the same kind of motivation to write, reviews are twice as important. You guys keep me writing, so please tell me what you think. Comments, suggestions, advise, i will love you forever.


	6. Chapter 6

Maggie forgot it was raining until she had already let the door shut behind her. Her blue knit sweater was already getting wet, but she barely noticed. She never really got out much, most of her time was spent alone in the store, so Luke was some of the best companionship she'd had in a while. Even if they didn't talk much it was nice having him there. Seeing him standing there, dripping wet and shaking, had scared her. She had been going to brush it off as him just being cold from the rain, but the clothes and the coughing had been too much.

Running across the street, the woman pushed the glass door open and stepped into the café. The man at the counter started awake. Sundays were slow, and the weather wasn't really helping. "Hello, how can I he-" he stopped when he recognized her. "Maggie, hey. What're you doing over here?" They'd met a few times, owning stores across the street and all.

"Food." She pulled a twenty from her pocket and handed it to him. "A lemonade, a hot chocolate, and the bacon and eggs. To go, please."

"Good to see you too" he mumbled as he punched in the order.

"I'm sorry. I'm kind of stressed."

"Yeah?" he grabbed a cup and poured the drink. "What's up?"

"A… friend of mine. He's sick or something. His name's Luke, he was in here the other day?"

John stopped with the lid halfway on the plastic cup. "That kid working at your store? He was in here yesterday morning. He ok?"

"I don't know. He seems pretty sick, but his parents let him out of the house with nothing but his coat. I guess that means he can't be that bad, but I still figured I'd buy him breakfast."

John grabbed the white to-go container that was slid over the back counter and handed to her. "He was a little strange, don't you think? You finally get a friend, and it's some weird ten year old. Should we worry?" He grinned as he said it, but somehow it still came off as mocking.

"He's twelve." Maggie took the container and drinks, and with a final glare turned and left. She'd never liked going in there much. John got on her nerves sometimes, but it was still the best food within walking distance, so she toughed it out.

She half ran across the street, pulled open the door with her elbow and ducked out of the rain. Luke hadn't moved, thank god. She'd been half afraid he would be gone when she returned.

"I hope you like bacon, i had to guess at what you'd want." He had unwrapped himself from the red blanket, and sat tensely pressed against the wall. His eyes widened when he saw the food, but he stayed put.

She sat back down in front of him and handed him the foam box, watching him as he cautiously opened it. He didn't seem terribly sure about the contents, but he was hungry, and he picked up a slice of bacon to nibble on. She waited for him to finish and try some of the eggs before starting to talk.

You know you're sick, right? Why did your parents let you out like this?" Another shrug. "Do they even know that you're here?" She couldn't see how any responsible would let a kid outside when he could barely breath.

He couldn't respond passively to that. He had spent the last few minutes before her arrival recreating his backstory, and he prayed he hadn't left any holes. "My mother leaves for work really early, I doubt she knows or cares what I do most of the time."

He grabbed another piece of bacon. He hadn't liked the eggs much.

"What time does she get home? What about your dad?"

Maggie's curiosity about the kid was overpowering her usual dislike of people who asked too many questions. Normally she would have annoyed herself by now.

"I don't know. I've never met him. And she gets home late, I'm usually asleep already."

There was silence, interrupted only by the sound of the boy finishing off the last of his breakfast.

"Can I ask where you live?"

"Apartment a few blocks away. The heater's broke, and half the windows, but there's electricity."

That would explain his shaking. And the hunger. If his mother couldn't even afford to heat their house, she doubted food was a constant. Accepting his explanation, Maggie stood and returned to her desk. Luke finished the hot chocolate and started working on relabeling the next stack of books, thankful that she'd believed him.

* * *

It was almost closing time. Business had picked up after the rain stopped, mostly teenagers looking for a last minute book for school. As usual, they had left the shelves in a state of disarray, but Luke had managed to get everything in order. The sunlight had started to darken and the temperature was rapidly dropping. The dark haired boy kept glancing worriedly at the door, dreading the moment he would have to leave the relatively warm store and face the night in the frigid streets.

His nervousness didn't go unnoticed by the woman at the desk. "Luke… are you going to be ok tonight? It's going to get really cold, especially if you don't have heat, and you're already sick."  
He gave his usual response of a noncommittal shrug, but a poorly concealed cough proved her point. Another night in the cold could be disastrous for him.

"Alright, come here." She stood and walked to the far side of the store, where a door was almost concealed behind a shelf. He followed her, curious. She unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a smallish back room. A dark gray and well-worn couch took up most of one wall. A radio sat on the table beside it, balanced on top of a microwave. At least half the room was taken by boxes of what appeared to be books. "This is… Actually, I'm not really sure what I'd call it. I keep books that need to be labeled or fixed back here, and sometimes I'll hang out after hours." She glanced back at the somewhat confused boy. "Technically, I'm not sure if I can do this, but if you ever need somewhere to sleep out of the cold, I'm going to leave it unlocked for you."

Luke's green eyes were wide and disbelieving at first, but a smile slid across his face as he realized she was serious.

"You have to make sure your mother knows you're safe if you do stay here. I don't want her to freak out." He nodded, trying to keep his smile hidden. "Ok, I can't exactly leave the store unlocked, so here." Slipping past him and back to her desk, Maggie pulled open a drawer to sift through the contents. After several seconds, she emerged with a bright silver key. "Don't you dare lose this. I will hunt you down." She walked back to him and grabbed his limp hand, pushing the key into it. "But I'm not going to let you freeze to death because I'm afraid someone will find it and want to rob a half-broke old bookstore."

"Wow. Thank you." He still seemed slightly shocked, so she let him process while she finished closing up.

It took him less than two minutes to be practically glowing as he helped her clean, and they were quickly done.

By the time they finally left, the air was freezing. Luke wore his coat tightly around himself, but he still shook. As usual, Maggie watched him until he was out of sight, not turning towards her own house until the boy disappeared into the same Wal-Mart as yesterday.

The warmth of the store allowed the pale boy to loosen his coat. His thin face was lit up in a smile. Things were actually going to be ok. He had money for food, a place to sleep, and maybe he could even afford something extra. Ten dollars was a lot of money. He made his way over to the canned food isle, wondering if he should try and buy a new shirt as well. The water bottle from the first day was empty, so he definitely needed a drink, and that left him with about five dollars. Could he get a shirt for that?

Today he chose a can simply labeled 'Soup.' It was the cheapest, and the picture didn't make it look completely awful. A water bottle brought the total up to four dollars, so he wandered into the clothing section of the store. The variety of boy's shirts was astounding, but most of them were above his budget. After sorting through dozens of expensive, pointless patters, he decided on a package of two plain black t-shirts for five dollars. By this time he was used to the process of checking out, and he managed to ignore the strange looks as he accepted his seventeen cents in change. Not for the first time, he wished he looked a little older. As he'd already learned in his three days, life was hard for a kid on their own.

Outside again, he considered returning to the bookstore. He could eat dinner there, and maybe read a while before going to sleep. On the other hand, he still hadn't explored the rest of the street, and he still had a few hours before he would get tired. Clutching the plastic grocery bag tightly, he turned away from the store and walked left. Most of the buildings didn't catch his interest. The bakery he had woken up next to a few days ago, a smoothie shop, an antique store, and more broken down old stands than any street had the right to have. Eventually the weight in his chest made walking too hard, and he settled down on a bench. He pulled the can of soup from his bag and peeled back the lid. It was some sort of meat and vegetables thing, and it wasn't nearly as bad as the plain label suggested. He was nearly finished within ten minutes.

With only a few chunks of beef left, he decided he wasn't really all that hungry. He had eaten three full meals today, which was more than he could remember ever eating before. Casting his eyes around for a trash can, he stood. He walked towards a black bin, and was about to toss the can, when something brushed up against his leg.

Still half concealed by the shadows of the building, a brown cat looked up at him. _Meow_. It looked up at him, smelling the food in his hands and wanting it. As scrawny as it was, it's blue eyes were endearing and the boy smiled down at it.

"Guess I'm not the only one without a home in this city." He reached his thin fingers into the can and pulled out a piece of meat. "Kinda sucks, doesn't it." Crouching down on the sidewalk, he reached his hand out towards the cat. The rough tongue rubbed his fingertips as the creature licked the last scraps of food off him. "Here, I have more." He crawled over and sat against the wall, reaching into the can for another few scraps. As the cat fed from his hand, he gently reached out to stroke it's fur. It was soft, although he could feel the bones beneath it, and the animal seemed to enjoy it. This continued, the boy petting the cat as it ate from his hand. Even when the can was empty, it remained for several minutes and purred as the child ran his fingers through it's fur. Eventually though, the dropping temperature drove him to stand and walk back towards the bookstore. He had barely gone five steps before a soft meowing stopped him. The cat had remained close to him.

"You can't follow me. I can't help you." He reached down and gently tried to push the cat away. It sat down, and he started walking again. When he reached the Wal-Mart, he turned to make sure it had left. It was less than two steps behind him. "I'm sorry, I really can't keep you with me. Go follow someone else." When the cat continued to stare expectantly at him, he sighed. "You're going to freeze tonight if you don't find somewhere to sleep soon. GO." He turned around and quickly continued, hoping the animal would get the message. He was almost at the store when he glanced behind him again. _Meow._

"For God's sake… I'm not going to get rid of you, am I." Blue eyes blinked, and the cat seemed to confirm it. The boy groaned, looking around for a solution. When his eyes fell on the bookstore, they lit up. "Stay here, I have an idea."

Digging the key Maggie had given him out of his pocket, he approached the door. His numb, trembling fingers had a difficult time unlocking it but eventually he managed. He slipped inside quickly so the cat wouldn't follow, and ran to the back of the room. Tossing his bag down, he grabbed his own green blanket before returning outside. The brown furred cat had not moved. He walked to the alley beside the bookstore, scanning it for a good spot. He choose a somewhat sheltered niche behind the dumpster, and crouched beside it. The cat, curious, walked over to investigate.

He grabbed a cardboard box from where it had been carelessly tossed and lined it with the blanket. The boy, working from a faint image in his mind of what a cat's bed should look like, carefully folded and twisted the green fabric until it looked comfortable. Turning around and picking up the cat who, surprisingly, did not object, he sat him in the makeshift bed. After a few nudges, the animal seemed satisfied and lay down. A corner of the blanket shifted and fell over it, efficiently covering most of the thin cat. The boy looked at his work, satisfied, and reached down to stroke the cat once more before turning on his heel and walking back to the warm shop.

* * *

Sorry, I didn't get a chance to edit. I'll come back and do it in a few hours. Longer chapter this week, thank you to everyone who reviewed. You're the reason for the length. Next chapter's going to be really intense, so please keep reviewing and I will keep writing.

Comments, suggestions, advise, and I'm sorry to anyone with questions i didn't reply to last week. I've been really busy.


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N _so this chapter was a bit rushed. I ****have finals next week, I'm really trying hard to squeeze in any writing time I can. The next chapter's going to be even harder, this week is going to be hell, so please please review. Every time you do I write for at least fifteen minutes, more if the review gave me an idea or suggestion. It's just a few minutes out of your time, but it helps me so much. (I have a much, much longer chapter planned for next week, probably at least three times what this one is, but with studying and panicking about grades its going to be hard to find time. If I can't finish I won't post, but I'll try my hardest to get it done.) **

* * *

_Pain. Horrible, crushing, blinding pain. It was everywhere, it made up his entire world. There was no longer a center to it, it engulfed him completely, and rendered him mute. He could no longer scream, or beg for death, as he had before. It burned through him for what felt like millennia before he finally began to emerge. As it faded, he could feel the individual injuries. His wrists, suspended above his head and pulling his feet from the ground, were searing from the rough metal that dug into them. Every joint screamed under the pressure, every involuntary twitch magnifying it. His back felt as though every scrap of skin had been ripped from it, and the hot air made the exposed flesh burn. He was aware that he was crying, sobbing, and it tore at his throat, already ragged from screaming. But he couldn't stop. Hot blood dripped into his stinging eyes and dribbled down his chin from a gash on his forehead. Sweat stung at the blistered burns on his chest, along with every cut on his pale body. His shoulder, however, was the source of the most intense torment. He could feel the letters branded onto his skin, and although the white-hot metal brand was gone he could still feel it, searing deeper and deeper into his skin. Marking him with the word while a snarling red face had hissed it into his ear. Disgrace. A disgrace to his people, to his family, and to himself. And now he would never forget it._

_The scene shifted, the dungeon and the pain faded and replaced by a cool breeze and a tickle on his legs. He crouched on the middle of a field, a dagger clutched in his hand. Beside him, a teenager with long blonde hair and a red tunic was grinning and holding a short sword. Although he was looking straight ahead, the dream allowed him to see the scene from a distance. His black hair and green shirt were a contrast to his brothers, but the way they moved together as they crawled through the tall grass showed a tight bond. Their footsteps were almost perfectly matched as they approached their target. A huge, hulking beast, at least six feet long and covered in shaggy red fur. The boy he knew to be Thor gestured that they should split up, and the brothers carefully maneuvered until the animal was between them. At a shout from Thor, they leapt from the grass and attacked. The dark haired boy struck first, a glowing green dagger flying from his hand and finding its target directly over the throat. Magic gave it power and it sliced through the heavy fur and thick skin to stick firmly. Roaring, the creature turned on him only to have the other brother attack from behind. Thor missed the neck, instead lodging his blade into the shoulder. The creature was furious, and tossed its horned head in an attempt to dislodge the god clinging to it. "Loki, now!"_

_His brother, with a shimmer of magic, appeared beside the beast and yanked his knife from where it was still stuck in the creature's neck. With the blade gone, blood gushed from the wound. His aim had been perfect. For the terrified animal, this was the last straw. He knew he was going down, but that only fueled his rage as he slammed his fifty pound horned skull into Loki's chest. The smaller boy was tossed backwards as though he weighed nothing, landing with a cry at least fifteen feet away. He immediately curled up, clutching his ribs._

_"Loki!" Thor jumped from his perch on their thrashing prey, narrowly missing it's horns as he ran towards the green form lying in the grass. He fell to his knees beside him, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "Brother, are you alright?" Loki groaned, his hands pushed to his chest. Beneath his fingers, green sparks of magic were flickering over his, apparently broken, ribs. His green eyes flickered open to glare at his brother, but immediately they widened in fear._

_"Thor, look out!" Before the older god even had time to turn his head, the injured one threw his hand up towards the heavily bleeding animal charging toward them. A loud crack rang through the otherwise empty field as the creature's neck was snapped by magic. A few more stumbling steps, and it fell._

_"Well, if I'd known you could do that... Loki!" His brother's eyes rolled back in his skull, exhausted from the effort of the spell. The magic healing his chest vanished, the last scraps of his reserves spent. "Damn it, Loki." Thor reached his arms underneath his limp brother, picking him up and standing easily. He walked as carefully as he was capable of, which honestly was still pretty rough._

_"Thor..." The prince mumbled, half conscious._

_"It's alright, brother. Mother will help you when I get you back to camp."_

_"No, that's not-" he cut himself off with a grunt of pain as Thor half jumped over a small stream. "Slow down, you oaf. You're going to kill me before we even get back."_

_The pace slowed, and the jolts of pain from his ribs subsided. The rhythm of his stride was steady, and soon the boy drifted off._

_As the blue sky faded above him, another took its place. This one was cloudy and filled with smoke from the battle below. Explosions dotted the streets far beneath him as an army- his army- fought for control of the city. He stood above it all, watching the chaos, but he felt neither pride nor regret. The voice in the back of his mind that seemed to have so much control over him was whispering, 'finish it. You have an army, use it.'_

_He felt hollow as he reached for his staff to call the rest of his Chitauri army. He just wanted this to be over. His fingers had barely brushed the cold metal, however, when a familiar voice stopped him. "Loki, no."_

_He turned to face the blonde man behind him. "Why?" His voice sounded cold, but inside he was begging. _Please, give me a way to stop this._ Turning dramatically, he spread his arms. "It's too late to stop it now."_

Please, please, help me.

_"It's not too late. We can still fix this."_

_The glowing blue presence in his mind filtered his words, and his desperate laugh came out confidant._

_"Brother, I know you. You may be prone to mischief, but you are not evil."_

_"Oh, Thor. You always did see the best in people." He fought the words with every last bit of will he had left, but they still escaped his lips. His own mind supplied the words, but it wasn't him who uttered them. The last image before the world faded swam hazily before him. A pair of bright, heartbroken blue eyes inches from his own. "Loki, I know you're still in there somewhere. Please, come home."_

* * *

The green eyed boy curled on a couch in the back of a bookstore jerked suddenly awake, a red blanket falling from his shoulder as he sat up. The last words from his dream were ringing in his ears, deafening in the silent room.

"Oh god." he whispered. "I'm Loki."

* * *

An eternity away, on a bleak, dark rock, a blue faced alien snapped to alertness from the hunched position he had been scrying in. His voice was a dry hiss when he spoke. "My lord. We have found him."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**

**Hello again. Sorry for posting late, I've been stuck without WiFi all day. It's taken me the last hour and a half just to get these pages to load and to edit. As promised, this chapter is much longer, and so much crap happens it was stressful to write. Hope you enjoy, please tell me what you think. Ok, forgive me for being needy, (I'm somewhat delirious with fever right now and I cant stop coughing long enough to type, I get to be a little grumpy), but please, I would love some feedback. Not just 'good job, cant wait for the next chapter', (Its not that I don't like those, I do) but actual feedback. What did you like, what can I do better, what do you want to see in later chapters? Those kind of reviews help me so much, you have no idea.**

* * *

The boy sat on the edge of the couch, staring at his hands. _Loki. The man who killed thousands just last month. _There was some part of his brain that still tried to resist, but even if all the facts hadn't fallen perfectly into place (He had come from seemingly nowhere soon after the god had died, and with his people's magic reincarnating as a child wouldn't be such a far fetched thing. All of his dreams were based on or from the perspective of Loki, and the rush of emotions associated with him were too strong to be brushed off.), he could feel that it was right. The name felt good on his tongue, it felt like _his._

"Loki." He whispered it aloud, the sound fading quickly into the silence. "Prince of Asgard."

He shivered. He had barely come to terms with his own existence, and now he had to deal with the fact that he was a reincarnated _god._ Not just a god, either. An evil, chaotic, murdering god of lies. In his shock, his personal memories of Loki from his dreams were irrelevant, and he remembered nothing but the maniacally laughing image from the laundromat magazine.

He knew right away that he could tell no one. He would be labeled as either a criminal or insane, and he couldn't let that happen. Not when things were finally looking up. There was no was he could keep it hidden forever, especially if he grew up to look as much like the other Loki as he did currently. From his first dream of the god's childhood, he knew they were nearly identical. But for now… he had food, and a place to sleep. Maybe he could manage to forget about his half-remembered past, if only for a while.

With this thought to console him, he stretched himself back out on the threadbare couch and pulled the blanket back over his shivering body. It took what seemed like hours, but eventually he fell back into a restless sleep.

* * *

When Maggie approached the store the next morning, about half an hour before eight, she nearly tripped on a cat lingering by the door.

"Hey there, cutie. What're you doing around here?" It rubbed against her docilely, so she took the risk of reaching down to pet it. "Sorry, I don't have anything for you. Standing, she unlocked the door and slipped quickly in, opening it as little as possible to keep the cat out. Flicking on the light she noticed the absence of the blankets from where they had been stacked by her desk, and she smiled. She walked softly to the back wall to peer into the partially open door. Luke was curled on the couch, his breathing rough but definitely asleep. The lighting was dim, but he seemed to her healthier than before. His face was still strangely pale, but there were hints of pink in his cheeks and he wasn't shivering at all. Maggie backed up slowly, careful not to disturb him. She shouldn't have bothered, as she had barely been sitting at her desk for ten minutes when the bleary eyed boy shuffled out of the small room, trying to hide a yawn.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said playfully. "You look better."

Luke ran him fingers through his hair, attempting to comb it. "I feel better. Thank you."

He neatly folded the blanket and placed it back by the desk before looking up at Maggie for instructions. He was using all of his mental strength to keep himself from thinking about last night's realization, but a job to do would help tremendously.

A ten dollar bill was pushed over the desk. "I want coffee, get whatever you want."

Thankful, the boy grabbed the money and his coat, which was still folded where he had left it last night, and headed towards the door. Outside, the previous night's gloom had faded to reveal a clear blue sky, which reflected off the frost that still partially covered the windows. He had barely left the building when the cat from last night pushed itself underneath him. He tripped and landed hard on the pavement. _Meow._

His night out of the cold had put him in a fairly good mood, so he laughed at the animal despite the pain from hitting the ground. "I thought dogs were supposed to be the clingy ones. What kind of cat are you?" He stroked the soft brown fur as he climbed off the sidewalk. "Glad to see you made it through the night ok. Did you like the bed?" Of course, the cat did not respond, so the boy stood and continued towards the cafe. The cat remained by the bookstore.

The cafe was a lot more crowded than it had been previously, and the child had to weave in and out of groups of people in colorful coats sipping coffee. By this time, the ordering was automatic, and he was back outside in a little over five minutes. He wasn't feeling terribly hungry, so he ordered himself a side of bacon and a water. Before reentering the store, he stooped to give the cat a slice of his breakfast. It looked even scrawnier than him, he couldn't help wanting to feed it.

Back inside, he placed the coffee on Maggie's desk. She was staring intently at her computer, so he took the opportunity to eat as much as he could before she gave him a task.

"Hey, Luke, would you... eh..." She was distracted by something on the screen. "Go- go get one of those boxes from the back room. Any one, doesn't matter. " He reluctantly went, taking his food with him.

The cardboard boxes, completely full of books, were heavy and he ended up having to put the foam container down to attempt to pick one up. He struggled with the weight anyways, dropping it every time he tried to pick it up, often on his own feet.

Several minutes of failure were suddenly interrupted by a crash and a scream from the front room.

* * *

No one was entirely sure where the Chitauri had come from. There had been flashes of light, but no dramatic portals or pillars of lightning. They had just… appeared. Not an army, or any sort of formidable force. Just two.

Of course, this was easily enough to terrify an entire street of people into a screaming mob of pedestrians. The aliens didn't seem to care, speaking softly to each other in a hissing and clicking tongue.

_Where was the trickster seen? _

_Somewhere on this street, is all I was told. We were lucky to get this exact of a location. _

This Chitauri in particular had been chosen for his knowledge of the all-tongue. It was unusual for their race to speak it, but on Midgard it could be useful. As it was several seconds later.

They didn't bother to use the door to the coffee shop, instead smashing straight through the glass. The man behind the counter stood, frozen in fear and completely unable to run.

"Human. Do you know the location of the one we seek? Loki, the criminal. Hidden in the form of a midgardian child, he is nearby."

John's mind was completely numb with shock and fear. There were aliens, huge, gray aliens, standing five feet form him. Asking about the man who had invaded New York last month. Or, a child version of him apparently. His thoughts were reeling and confused, but by some miracle they put the pieces together.

"Answer, mortal. He appears as a younger version of the god."

John's tongue finally unfroze enough for him to speak. "Th-there's a boy, h-he showed up a few days ago. Black h-hair, green eyes?"

The Chitauri stepped closer. "Where is he now?"

Finger shaking, the man pointed across the street. Without another word, the creatures turned and left through the hole they had created. John collapsed against the counter the second they were gone.

They were slightly more polite with the bookstore, ripping the door from its hinges instead of tearing though the wall. Although it might have been because of the solid brick building, and not courtesy. Maggie screamed.

"Midgardian, tell us where Loki is and we will leave you unharmed."

Thankfully she got her focus back much quicker than john had, and managed to talk through the terror. "Lo-Loki's dead. For months now. Why are you asking m-me?"

The Chitauri stepped threateningly closer. "I know he is here. The trickster is hiding himself as a child, but he is still dangerous."

"No, there's no Loki here, just…" she trailed off. She had initially assumed they were making some sort of weird mistake, but saying the name out loud, she realized how much it _did_ sound like Luke. Pictures from news stories and magazines flashed through her head. A man, dressed in green and black, with pale, sharp features and long dark hair. His eyes she had never seen, but she would be willing to bet they were a bright, mischievous green. "…Luke."

The boy chose this moment to poke his head out of the back room. The second he saw the aliens, his legs nearly collapsed out from under him. The only memories he had of the aliens came flashing back. Being dragged from a cell, agony taking his last scraps of pride as he screamed in pain, insults and smacks to the head when he wouldn't walk fast enough. It didn't matter that they were memories from a dream. They were still his.

He wanted to step backwards, to run and hide, but his legs wouldn't move. They were frozen to the floor, forcing him to watch as the Chitauri stepped closer to Maggie.

"Who is Luke?"

Her response was quiet. She had let this boy in, she had _liked _him, he couldn't be the chaotic, ruthless god that had wrecked her city. "The boy… he came here a few days ago, he works here."

As much as she didn't want to believe it, the fact that she was telling the aliens proved that she did.

The Chitauri took that to mean that he was in the shop, and began to search. It took the taller one barely thirty seconds before his beady eyes found the terrified boy. The grin that came over his face filled the child with the purest form of horror he had ever known.

"Found you, little prince."

It was the voice that finally did it. A young boy can only take so much fear before he overflows, and the overflow was what allowed him to finally take action. He ran backwards as fast as he could, slamming and locking the door. He shoved the box he had been attempting to lift against it, hoping for a few extra seconds with which to work. Nearly throwing himself at the table, he grabbed a pad and pencil he had found the night before and scrawled out a message with trembling hands.

"Come out, runt. There's nowhere to run."

Thank god these creatures had a tendency to play with their prey.

_Maggie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know anything about this before last night. I woke up three days ago on the street, no memories I swear I didn't mean any harm. I don't know why, or how, but I guess I really am Loki. So sorr-_

He threw the paper down as his nightmare finally pulled open the door. "Come on, now. There's someone who's been waiting to see you for quite a while." It grabbed him forcefully by his coat collar and dragged him from the room, forcing him to frantically scramble to try to get his feet on the ground. Everything was spinning, but he managed to lock in on Maggie's face as he was pulled from the room.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he passed her. "A note, in th-" a harsh tug cut off his breathing, but he got his message across with a wild gesture towards the recently vacated room. Her eyes as she watched him go were wide, shocked, and slightly betrayed.

Luke (Loki, his mind reminded him) managed to get back on his feet before they reached the sidewalk. _Meow._

He had decided there was definitely something wrong with that cat. Aliens had violently pulled the door from the frame, and it was still waiting outside.

"You stupid creature, go away."

_Meow_

The Chitauri who wasn't holding the boy turned around and stared at the animal. It took two steps to reach it. He looked at his companion, then gestured to Loki.

"Is this creature yours?"

As dull as the cat seemed to be, it was sweet and he didn't want it to get hurt. "No, he just followed me here. Don't we have somewhere to be?"

The Chitauri were talking in their native language again, but somehow the boy could understand them.

"He is right. Let's go."

There was a split second of relief as his captors turned away, but then-

_Meow._

The smaller alien didn't even turn his head when he snapped his foot back to kick the animal. A sharp cracking of its spine, then almost total silence.

Loki's legs stopped working when he saw the cat fall. The Chitauri didn't seem to care, continuing to drag him across the road, and the horrified boy let the pavement scrape at his coat. Up until now, some part of his mind had been refusing to believe that any of this was happening to him. These things weren't real, they couldn't hurt him. But seeing the small brown cat, lying dead by the gaping doorway, everything hit him. These cruel, bloodthirsty, and probably revenge seeking aliens were taking him to an unknown location. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to protect himself.

The rubber heels of his sneakers dragged along the black road. A cold, scaly hand was wrapping around his throat, trying to tug him to his feet. He tried to ignore it, but it was persistent. Eventually it won, and it pulled him upwards and off the ground. His face was pressed against the golden Chitauri armor, so when the light flashed around them he was not blinded, but the fierce wind that tugged at his coat told him they were moving. Although the boy lay perfectly still in his captor's grip, his mind was in chaos. The pale, dry skin inches from his face was bringing back unwanted memories, and there was no part of him not dreading what he knew was coming in the near future. These creatures had done so much damage to him, internally and externally, and even though the memories were faint they were still his and they still hurt.

There was a heavy thump, and the light vanished. Loki was rudely dropped to the ground, and he felt a terrifyingly familiar rough rock under his fingers. He slowly opened his eyes. The Chitauri home base, while barren and dark, had a sky more breathtaking than Asgard's and he couldn't help but stare. The deep blues and blacks, strewn with swirls of pinks and greens lit up the gray and uneven landscape beneath with a faint glow. The boy's eyes were turned upwards in wonder, but a deep voice from behind him snapped them around so quickly he nearly pulled a muscle in his neck.

"At last, the prince returns."

The boy had thought he had reached his limits long ago for how much fear he was capable of feeling. Now, seeing this face that haunted his nightmares for the first time, he realized he was wrong.

Red, deeply lined skin covered the face of the alien, who grinned menacingly down at him from barely five feet away.

"I told you I would find you. Even with this new illusion, you cannot hide from me. Although, I am impressed by how permanent it seems. I can't even detect the magic, although your soul gives it away." He stepped closer and brushed his huge fingers against the boy's jaw. "You forget, my magic is superior to even yours. The wretched thing that is your essence is distinct. I can see it, even when you clean it off and choose a new form." Loki could say nothing as the alien tilted his head to look him directly in the eyes. "I'm impressed, by the way, with how well you managed to cleanse your soul. Purer, you were difficult to find. Unfortunately for you a trickster god can never quite possess the innocence of a human. You stood out among them."

The child still couldn't move. He would have given anything in that moment to be able to run, or even just cover his face. Thanos' red eyes burned into his own, and they hypnotized him like a snake entrances it's prey before it strikes.

"Do you remember my promise to you, Asgardian? Your freedom for the Tessaract. And I'm not seeing the Tessaract."

He looked away suddenly and stood. "Take him to his room."

The cell from his dreams flashed quickly through his mind as he was yanked upwards.

"We'll finish this later, once you've settled in. And you might as well get comfortable. You're going to be here for quite a long time."

Loki wanted to scream, to protest, to do anything other than let these aliens drag him back into hell, but the part of his brain where his old memories were knew it would only make things worse. A hand latched back around his throat, pushing him forwards while cutting off his air supply. The Chitauri led the small boy across the desolate rock towards a gaping hole in the earth. Inside, there was absolutely no light, and when they had rounded a few corners from the entrance, he was blind. Apparently the Chitauri possessed some adaptation that he did not. The journey seemed to take forever. The tunnels were eerily silent, and the only noise was the scratch of feet on rock and his own loud breathing. He was acutely aware that the only guidance he had in this blackness were the claws digging into the soft skin of his neck.

The whole situation felt surreal. The world around him seemed to fade and vanish, until nothing was left but the rock directly beneath him and the Chitauri hand, guiding him through the void and straight into hell.

But the rest of the world continued to exist, whether or not he could see it, and they eventually stopped. A jingle of keys, and a click. The sound of a stone door pulled open sent chills down the boy's spine. The presence on his neck vanished, and for a moment he stood completely alone in the corridor, before a shove sent him sprawling forward. The rock was smoother where he landed, but the palms of his hands still stung when he threw them out to break his fall. The door shut as he sat up, leaving him truly by himself for the first time. For a moment, it was silent, until a quiet sob drifted from the floor. _Oh god, they're going to kill me. They're going to torture me and then leave me to die. _He crawled, a habit from his half remembered past visit, until his outstretched hands touched walls. He found himself curled in the same corner be had seen the man (_that was you_) cowering in his dream. Reaching his fingers upwards tentatively, he felt a somewhat corroded pair of cuffs hanging a ways above him. Another sob shuddered through him. _Why am I here? I didn't do anything, really. I wouldn't have hurt anyone. I hate Loki so much (you hate yourself? Yes.) Why couldn't i have just died when I was supposed to? Why would I be so desperate to live that I would put myself back into this hell? _ He pulled his coat tighter, covering his face in the collar. It still smelled faintly of the chocolate he had spilled on it yesterday morning, which only made him cry harder_. I'm Loki, I know that, and maybe I do deserve this, but don't I even get the memories back I'm going to suffer for? I don't remember making a deal with them, or betraying anyone, I can barely recall the attack on New York. I don't know why I did any of it, either. Maybe I had reasons. _The sight of the burning city from his dreams flashed through his mind. _Maybe there's nothing that could possibly excuse for what I did, but if I'm going to die it'd be nice to know why._


	9. Chapter 9

"Sir, I have a message from Agent Coulson."

"Ignore. It's Christmas, these scrooges are going to have fun if it kills them." Tony Stark spoke through a roll of tape, as his hands were busy trying to adjust a somewhat tattered string of mistletoe to the kitchen door. Behind him, the living room was a holiday mess. Wrapping paper was crumpled in the corner, and hastily wrapped presents were strewn haphazardly around a lush, undecorated tree. Boxes or ornaments were stacked on of the couch, along with dangerous amounts of tinsel and a few strings of colorful lights. Outside the window, the sun hadn't yet risen, but the sky above New York was a light pink. And judging by the empty coffee mug on the counter, he had been up a while.

Tony scrambled down from his stepstool just as a timer in the kitchen went off.

"JARVIS, you got that?"

"Turning the oven off, sir." This was Tony's fourth batch, he wasn't going to let these ones burn. He fished around various drawers for a potholder ("Who organizes these things, anyways?") before finally giving up and using a dishtowel to pull a pan of cookies out of a sleek black oven. Setting them down on the stovetop, he ran back to the living room just in time to see the sun break the top of the horizon, between two skyscrapers.

"Shit." Sunrise. That meant-

"Morning, Tony. Are you cooking?"

Steve. Perfect soldier as he was, he never failed to wake up at the exact same time, day after day, right along with the sun. Tony's mind raced, trying to use this new pajama-clad development to his advantage. Even if he couldn't surprise all his teammates, he could still get the rest if he hurried.

"Hey Cap, how capable are you of icing cookies?"

* * *

Half an hour later, a somewhat stickier Captain America emerged from the kitchen into an almost spotlessly cleaned living room, a plate of newly frosted cookies in hand.

"Awesome." Tony grabbed the plate from him, placing it on the coffee table alongside a stack of board games. Glancing at his friend's handiwork, he could help but grin. There were one or two oddly shaped Christmas trees, but he had clearly given them up quickly for something he knew how to do. The majority of the desserts were decorated with perfect, cookie shaped American flags.

"Presents!"

Both men turned to see an excitedly grinning archer standing in the doorway, also still in his pajamas. Although in his case it was a black tshirt and sweatpants instead of Steve's fuzzy blue pajama set. Walking sleepily in a few feet behind him, his partner was somewhat less exited.

"It's seven in the morning, Clint, couldn't this have waited?"

"It's Christmas, Nat, of course it couldn't wait. Told you Tony'd buy stuff."

Natasha, in a red tank top and black silk pants, looked like she was ready to either fall asleep or punch someone. Tony decided to leave her alone for a while.

"Alright, gang's almost here. You early birds see Bruce on your way up?"

As if on cue, Bruce Banner appeared in the doorway, coffee in hand. "Who decided hitting my door repeatedly was the best way to wake me up, and why?"

Clint suddenly became very interested in the cookie he was eating.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Everyone's here, time for Christmas. C'mon, I got you guys stuff."

Clint perched himself onto the back of the couch behind a dozing Natasha, Bruce setting himself down next to her with a sigh. He, for one, had never had much luck with Christmas. Most of his teammates probably hadn't, now that he thought about it. He knew Tony hadn't really had much in the way of a happy family, although for all he knew about Steve he had a dozen pleasant holiday memories. Clint was exited as a child on his first Christmas morning, but judging by the fact that Natasha had officially fallen asleep against the archer's leg she wasn't really feeling the cheer.

His thoughts were interrupted by a box hurled at his head. He caught it just in time, barely managing not to spill his coffee. "Could we tone it down, just a bit maybe?"

Tony ignored him. "Open it."

There was no reasoning with a five year old on Christmas. Bruce ripped of shiny silver paper to reveal… his face? Or, technically, the hulk's face. On a green winter hat. He tugged the box open and pulled out a green beanie with a picture of the hulk grinning on the front. "Uh… thanks?"

"I was going to get you the one with me on it, but they sold out."

Gift giving continued like this, Tony giving each member of the team merchandise with either their face or his somewhere on it, and a few thoughtful presents ("Clearly it was Santa") hidden towards the back. Clint opened both his and Natasha's gifts, waking her toward the end only to give her one from him (a new knife).

Things quieted down after that. The assassins were in the kitchen making more coffee, while Tony tried to teach Steve to play clue. Bruce was flipping through a book on mythology tony ("Why do you continue to doubt me? I said it was Santa.") had bought him, trying to ignore the fact that he was wearing his own face on his head.

"Sir," JARVIS said, "Agent Coulson is insistent that you hear his message. He hays it is of the utmost importance."

"Dammit, Doesn't anyone know I don't work on Christmas? Tell him I'll check in later."

Steve looked up, frowning. "It might be important, Stark. Shouldn't you at least check?"

"Yeah, He'll probably-"

_Ding_

"Sorry, Sir."

Coulson walked into the room, somewhat irritated. "Stark, you need to learn to answer your phone. There were Chitauri in the streets last night, we need you guys to check it out."

Steve started to stand, but Tony beat him to it, pushing him back on to the ground as he jumped over wrapping paper. "Christmas, Phil. Don't you know you're not supposed to do work?"

"Tony, I-" He stopped suddenly, caught off guard by something behind the millionaire. The rest of the room turned to look almost simultaneously. Tony grinned broadly, and to his left Steve turned red. The assassins had discovered the mistletoe on the way out of the kitchen, and were very enthusiastically making use of it.

A few long moments and an awkward throat clearing later, they realized the rest of the room was watching and emerged from the kiss. Clint, who had been pinned against the side of the archway, tugged on the edge of his shirt and grinned sheepishly.

"Uhh… Hello, Agent." Behind him, Natasha burst out into uncharacteristic giggles. "Looking around at the embarrassed faces of his friends, Clint decided the situation was unsalvageable anyways. "See ya later, then." He grabbed Natasha's hand and awkwardly shuffled past Coulson and into the hallway.

There were several seconds of silence, and then…

"You know what, actually, I think we can drop the possible alien invasion for now. Do you have anything to drink?"

"Thought you'd never ask." The two men walked into the kitchen, careful to avoid the still-hanging mistletoe."

Steve, still slightly pink, asked haltingly, "So… err… are they… fondue?"

Bruce laughed quietly. "Yeah, probably." He stood to look out the huge window. Everything looked calm enough, if there had been an attack it hadn't been a very big one. Glad as he was for a day off, he couldn't help but wonder if they would regret ignoring it. Hopefully nothing would come of it, and their colleagues' new relationship could continue to be their biggest annoyance for a while.

* * *

Merry christmas, Happy Holidays, whatever works for you. Here's my gift to you of an extra chapter, featuring the avengers. Maybe not plot relevant, but i though the actual next chapter was a bit too bloody for a present. Hope you like, I wrote it kind of quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**

**Hello again, sorry about the late update. Hope you liked the christmas chapter, not many reviews so i'm not sure how I did. I've never really worked with the avengers before, so any tips or advise would be hugely appreciated. **

**This chapter was actually going to be hugely violent, but I had to cut some stuff and rearrange others because it was getting way too long. Next week will just be unpleasant for everyone. Thor makes his appearance, I know a lot of people have been eager for some familiar faces. Reviews keep me writing, good or bad, so please just take a minute to give me some feedback. It makes a big difference, especially with the current block I've been trying to get past for three days. New characters are tricky.**

* * *

Maggie remained at her desk until the men in the black vans showed up. SHIELD, they called themselves. They asked a few questions, which she answered truthfully. They had been the same aliens that had attacked the city last month, they had come for the boy, they had called him Loki, no she hadn't know that was his name. They were leaving when she finally spoke up of her own accord.

"He was sweet."

"I'm sorry?"

"The boy. He was a really sweet kid."

The agent smiled sadly at her. "I'm sure he was. We're sorry about all the trouble, and we'll have this cleaned up by tomorrow." He gestured towards the destroyed door. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The vans had barely pulled away before she stood and walked quickly towards the back room. She couldn't believe that Luke had been using her, and if there was any possibility he'd left something that would prove him innocent she wanted to see it.

The box was still in front of the door, and she had to push it aside to search. She found the note quickly. It had been tossed onto the floor when the alien creature had entered the room, so it was half under the couch. Sitting on the worn cloth seat, Maggie pulled it out to read the surprisingly neat writing.

The words said that he hadn't known anything. The SHIELD agents had told her he was the god of lies, and not to believe anything he had said to her, but he couldn't have faked that shaking, or those horrible coughs. And if he really had woken up on the street three days ago, it meant that until the night before that had been where he was sleeping. Shouldn't a god of mischief at least be able to trick and lie his way into a warm place to sleep every night? And then there was the fact that his own army from barely a month ago was taunting him as they took him away. The fear on the boy's face as they had dragged him by had been real.

She stayed on the couch for a long time, staring at the plastic Wal-Mart bag on the floor in front of her.

* * *

_This time it was different. He was still dreaming, he knew that for sure, but it felt off. The scene didn't feel like his own, although he could see himself standing beside the golden haired man he knew to be his brother. He saw himself, but as if through someone else's eyes. He felt no real connection to the green clothed young man other than that they were the same person. The brothers laughed as they chatted, and Loki walked closer. He had assumed that this was a memory and that he could not affect it, but when he moved into Thor's vision the god stopped talking and turned to look at him. _

_"Loki?"_

_The other Loki, the older one, froze as Thor stepped closer to the surprised boy. "It seems my dreams are not staying with their usual pattern; you do not usually interrupt yourself like this."_

_"What do you mean? This is my dream." The child frowned at his brother._

_"If only it were. You did possess the gift of dream walking, you know. If you still lived, I would believe you were simply playing a trick on me." A huge, warm hand reached down and gently ruffled the boy's hair. _

why are my own dreams pretending to not know me? _He wondered. But when the hand vanished, and he stared up at the sad blue eyes, everything clicked._

_"Oh gods." His vision swam as he the surrealism of being in another's dream struck him. Shaking himself he looked up at his brother. "You're sure this is your dream?"_

_"Yes, quite. Are you alright?" Loki was Loki, dream or not, and he worried for this frail version of his baby brother. _

_The child took a deep breath. "Thor, I am not a dream." He continued before his brother had a chance to interrupt. "Please don't ask me how, but I really am Loki. I'm still remembering things, but I know who I am, and I'm your brother."_

_Had they been awake, Thor would likely have dismissed the mere suggestion of Loki cheating death again, but seeing his brother before him and talking to him in some way that wasn't just another memory was making him long for it to be true. But the memory of seeing him killed only a few months ago forced him to question it. "Even if that were true, why wouldn't I have known about it? Heimdall would have told me if he had seen you alive."_

_"My current location is beyond his sight. I'm in trouble, Thor. I suppose that's why I'm here, actually. "_

_Thor knelt beside him. "Where could you be that is beyond his sight? Are you being shielded?"_

_Loki shuffled his feet. If he really was dream walking, and it would appear that he was, this could be a valuable opportunity for rescue. He just had to play it right. "As far as I know, I am not. I've been taken to a place that the gatekeeper can't see, and I…" he prayed that he would be believed. His being in the Chitauri homeland was suspicious, to say the least. " I was taken by force, Thor. The Chitauri came for me." Even saying it aloud sent a shiver of fear through him. _

_"The Chitauri… were those not the creatures that worked for you in New York?" _

_"I don't know. I can barely remember the battle, but from what I do it doesn't seem like they were the ones serving me. I know that they hurt me. And I know they want revenge for my failure now." He looked down at his hands, which were shaking again. He balled them into fists. This was only a dream, he should be able to control his emotions. _

_The blonde man noticed his brother's fear. By this time, no matter how little sense all of this made, he was convinced that this Loki was not a figment of his dreams. He reached out and took his brother's tiny hands in his own huge ones, feeling how cold they were. "Tell me everything."_

_Doing his best to be honest, the boy told the story of the past few days. Thor seemed concerned with the memory loss, but if he was confused by the age change that came with the reincarnation he said nothing. When the story was over, ending with Loki falling asleep in his cell, he pulled his brother into a tight hug. _

_"I know nothing more than you about what has happened, but I promise I will do my best to find out. I will get you out of there, just hold on for me. Alright?" The boy nodded. "If this is all true.. I'm so happy to see you alive, brother. I will do anything in my power to help you."_

_Suddenly, there was an out of place sound. Metal against metal, a jangling of keys… The little color that was there drained from the child's face. "They're coming for me."_

_Thor gripped him tightly. Stay strong, Loki. I will rescue you, but you have to stay strong. Ok?"_

_The boy opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Thor vanished. _The light around him evaporated, and all that was left was the darkness of his prison. He quickly wiped tears from his face and turned to face the door that he could hear sliding open. Now that there was hope, he knew he could try and face whatever waited outside.

* * *

Thor awoke in his chambers with the memory of the dream still fresh in his mind. Loki… could it be that his brother was still alive? He wouldn't have put it past him to have arranged a way around death, but when he had last seen him he hadn't seemed like he would have wanted to. He hated to think back to those last few minutes on the balcony, when his brother had, once again, taken his own life. But it was always the first thing on his mind when he thought of his brother. An occurrence that seemed to be happening more and more lately.

With a groan, he rolled himself out of the red canopy bed. First, he had to go to Hiemdall and confirm what Loki had told him. If there were indeed places beyond his sight, then his brother had been alive and dream walking. His dreams rarely changed, and there had never been anything as strange as this before. He had never really been one for learning about that sort of thing. A pair of boots and a tunic mishap later, he was striding purposefully towards the gatekeeper's post.

* * *

"You have a question for me?" As always, Heimdall was several steps ahead of him.

"I do. I wanted to know if there are any places in the universe you cannot see."

Heimdall turned. "Why do you ask?"

There was no point in hiding anything that had happened, yet Thor was hesitant to tell. "I had a strange dream last night. I wish to know if things I saw were possible."

Heimdall paused before replying. "There are worlds beyond my sight. Those not within the nine realms, such as the home of the Chitauri you fought several months past."

_Loki said he was being kept with the Chitauri. I would never have been able to come up with this, it was almost certainly him. _He fought to keep a smile from his face as he bowed his head. "Thank you, that answers my question."

As he returned to the palace, he thought hard about what he had to do. He was almost certain at this point that his brother had visited him in his dreams, and that he was in trouble. He didn't know much about dream walking, but he knew that even Loki couldn't alter his appearance in someone else's dream. Wherever his brother was, however he had escaped death, he was in the form of a child. And judging from the way he had spoken and acted, the change had gone deeper than appearances. The boy that had spoken to him was so much like the brother he remembered from his childhood that it hurt to think about. He had missed that innocent version of his best friend since the destruction of the bifrost, and it had only gotten worse as whatever had happened to him in the void had driven him slowly mad. Now he was not only being offered a chance to have his brother back, but to get him back as he had been before things had gone bad. He had to do everything within his power to make this work.

His next destination was the library. He had to learn everything he possibly could about the Chitauri.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**

**Ok so I accidentally re-posted something, apparently I need to pay more attention. Still, not very much writing, I'm having problems with words. I'll try to get a long chapter in next week if I can, but for some reason I haven't been able to write at all, so we'll see. If anyone has advise for getting over writer's block I'd ****love to hear it, and reviews are always enormously helpful. Sorry again about the short chapter.**

**EDIT**

**Ok, so this is a repost, the third one in the past day. I'm extremely unhappy with this chapter, and I was torn between posting this and posting nothing. Several complete mental breakdowns later, I guess I'm putting it back up. Sorry for all the hassle.**

* * *

He had barely arrived in the Chitauri's realm, and already the sound of his cell door creaking open caused him to flinch and shrink back. Probably a response left over from his previous self's visit. _Come on. You can do this. Just don't get killed and you'll get out soon. _There was the heavy thump of the Chitauri's feet over the hard rock walking over to him, then a thick hand wrapping around his arm.

"Let's go. You have someone waiting for you. I think you'll recognize them." This was a different Chitauri, and he wasn't speaking English. _Why can I understand him? Do I know Chitauri?_ He didn't really have time to ponder this, however, as he was yanked upwards and thrust towards the door. Another guard caught him and grabbed his wrists. There was a clank of metal, and he felt unrefined edges scrape his skin as cuffs were snapped around them and roughly tightened. They were tight enough to be uncomfortable, but just barely loose enough to rub against him painfully when he was pulled out the door. The corridor was every bit as unrelentingly black as it had been the day before, and the surreal feeling from before returned. There were no tunnels, just him and this monster and the void.

Of course, this wasn't true, and that became clear as they started moving towards... wherever they were headed.

He almost wanted to ask, but fear of the creatures overpowered his natural curiosity. He would find out anyways, he supposed. The trip seemed longer than the previous one, and his sense of direction was telling him they were heading deeper into the labyrinth, away from the exit.

The air was colder down here. Loki was glad for his coat, but worried about whether they would let him keep it. His memories from this place didn't really include him being well clothed. The darkness seemed to be thinning, and if he squinted he could make out a faint glow of light at the end of the corridor. As they got closer, shadows around him started to appear and he could see his hands in front of him. The Chitauri that walked beside him had it's fingers around his throat, and he could see the armor on his arm glinting beside his ear. They rounded the corner, and he was nearly blinded by the first direct light he had seen since going underground. It was coming from a door to his right, and although it was , in reality, fairly dim he had to squint to peer inside. A quick shove, and he stumbled in. The light source was a bulb of energy, floating about seven feet off the ground in the corner of the room, and the young boy couldn't help but stare at it despite the pain in his eyes. Blue and steadily glowing, it was beautiful.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**

**Crap, I totally forgot it was sunday. Sorry about that. Didn't have a chance to edit, I'll go back and do that as soon as I have the chance. Please, review, it makes my day and helps me keep writing.**

**Warning: this chapter is violent.**

* * *

"So, the prince arrives." This was a voice he hadn't heard yet, and he pulled his eyes from the light to look at its owner. A Chitauri, although his polished silver armor was nicer than his guards'. As much as the creatures all looked the same to the child, this one seemed frighteningly familiar. He tried to back up, but the guard behind him pushed him forwards.

"It would appear you remember me. It's good to see that our time together left an affect on you." He crossed the room in two steps, stopping in front of the boy. "Lord Thanos has told me all about your new trick, but rest assured that the age you make yourself appear will have no effect on our sessions. I know the real god of lies, and a childlike exterior cannot hide the blackness I know is in there. Now, I want to see if your new body has any of the marks I left on you. You two, uncuff him." The painful cuffs were unlocked and removed. "Take off your shirt."

The boy didn't move, partially from surprise and partially from fear. The Chitauri made a gruff noise that was probably a sigh.

"Are you going to repeat your exact mistakes over again, runt? Would you like to spend the remainder of your life without a shirt at all?"

Loki's mind flashed back to his dream, seeing himself quivering with bare skin in his cell, and he immediately obeyed the order. He tossed his coat and shirt into the corner, as there didn't seem to be a place to put them. Looking down at his own pale chest, he felt even smaller than before. Every rib showed and he was visibly shaking in the cold air. That plus the huge, armored creatures surrounding him left him feeling extremely vulnerable. He resisted the urge to cross his arms, sensing that the creature would get annoyed. A hand from behind gave him another shove, moving him into the middle of the room where the silver-armoured one could look at him. He circled Loki, making him feel like an animal being sold for slaughter. Leathery fingers brushed his bare back as he was examined.

"Nothing. Not even the slightest scar. All my hard work, and you just erased it. I'm insulted." With another sigh, the alien turned away. "It looks like we'll have to start from scratch."

His features were still strange and mostly unreadable to the boy, but he swore the alien was grinning as he turned back around. His hands were pulled back together, and a different set of cuffs clamped on. These were smoother, but something about the designs carved into them sent a prickle of fear through him. The creature was almost twice his height, and probably four times his weight, so it barely took him any effort to grasp the chain on the handcuffs and lift the boy into the air.

The second his feet left the ground, panic coursed through the child. He had been in this position before, even if he didn't really remember, and he knew the pain the followed. Self preservation gave him strength, and he swung his legs up and kicked out at his captor with all the force in his body. Both feet connected with a partially exposed stomach, knocking the air from the Chitauri and causing him to drop the boy. A twelve year old child is small, but legs are strong and he was terrified.

Of course, there was no way that his momentary victory would help him in any way, as he quickly realized. The only difference was that the attitude of the huge being had changed from mocking to angry. _Why did I do that…_

He was grabbed and pulled into the air much more roughly than before. He felt a loop in the cuffs hook around something dangling from the low ceiling, and when his captor let go he was hanging almost three feet off the ground. _Oh my god oh my god he's going to torture me and he's going to kill me before Thor can come for me. I'm going to die right here, hanging somewhere in a Chitauri dungeon. And I don't even know why!"_

He hadn't realized how loud his breathing was, but as the silver-armored Chitauri turned back away he became aware of the sound. It was uneven, and you could hear the heaviness in his chest from whatever sickness he had gotten back on earth. There was an underlying high pitched sound, almost a whimper but not quite. All in all, he sounded pitiful.

"That was a mistake, Asgardian. I have orders to make you pay for your failure, but I might have been gentle at first. You have taken me out of my good mood."

"No, no, no, no, no…" Loki mumbled when he saw the vicious looking blade in the clawed hand. He instinctively twisted away from the approaching creature, but it only made his shoulders scream with the pressure. He probably weighed less than seventy pounds, but that was still a lot of weight to put on his arms alone.

The knife pushed against the clear, ghostly pale skin of his stomach, and the skeletal face of the Chitauri seemed to swim in front of him and take over his entire vision.

"Please… why are you doing this? What did I do?" He knew his voice was cracking, and he knew he sounded desperate, but he didn't care.

The pressure on the blade only increased, and the face lit up in a definite grin. "Is that how you plan to play this, little prince? You are going for ignorance?" The throaty, chocked noise he made was probably a laugh. "Do you expect me to believe that? You are the god of lies, there is not a person here who would trust that innocence act coming from you. If anything, you make my job more interesting. Let's see how quickly I can get you to change your mind about your tactics, hmm?"

His hand was quick, and Loki saw the flash of silver before the pain registered. The cut wasn't deep, it barely got all the way through the skin, but the boy was unprepared and unused to physical pain. He screamed.

"Please, just tell me why!" His words were half sobbing. He had known what was coming, but the stinging and the cool blood trickling down his chest and stomach made it so much more real. He ignored the burning in his shoulders as he pulled back from the blade that pushed again into his chest.

His tormenter ignored him. "You're going to have a hard time here, little prince, if you are already screaming." The blade flashed again, drawing another, deeper, scarlet line from his chest to his shoulder. Loki didn't scream again, but his clenched teeth did a poor job of hiding a cry of pain.

_Why won't he tell me, why wont he stop? _

"Admit it, and maybe it will not be so bad. Stop pretending you do not remember what you did." The knife traced lightly down his torso from his collarbone. "At least say that you remember _me._ I know I left an impact on you, and no matter how well you erased the scars I know you cannot have forgotten the pain." Another twitch of his wrist, another muffled shout. "Tell me my name, Asgardian, and I'll let you off lightly today."

"I don't know your name." His voice came out angrier than he had meant it to.

"What a surprise, the trickster can't even tell a truth to save his own hide. Whatever form you choose, you are the god of lies, and you always will be. Let's see how far I have to push to make you accept that."

Loki flinched as he raised the knife again, but the Chitauri didn't touch him. Instead, he leaned forward until his beady eyes were inched from the wide green ones. "Everyone knows who you are. Nothing you can ever do will make them forget, so why even bother trying to start a clean slate? It would be better to reconcile yourself to being the evil, twisted creature you are than to continue and pretend to be someone better."

He stared at him for what seemed like an eternity before turning away and placing the knife on the table. The assortment of metal tools that lay there, most of which seemed unsettlingly familiar, sent another jolt of fear through him. He had to get out of this, he had to talk his way into buying time. _I was the god of lies. Am. Whatever. I should be able to talk my way out of this, right? _He considered his options. He really didn't know the Chitauri's name, but more denial wouldn't likely get him anywhere good. Fear and pain were clouding his mind, he knew that, but he had to try something.

"Wait. I'm sorry, and I'm not trying to lie to you. It's just been a while. Months." He was hanging from the ceiling by his wrist in an underground alien dungeon, but something about telling the lie calmed him. It was familiar, the way the false words slipped off his tongue, and whether or not he was believed it felt good.

"You are not trying to lie to me? That would be a miracle. I do not believe you could ever forget me, however long it has been." He twisted around to rest his claws on Loki's heart. "You begged for mercy far too much for me to ever believe you could forget the name you were pleading to." He returned to whatever he was doing at the table, leaving five tiny drops of blood where his hand had been.

The truth didn't even occur to the boy as he struggled to fix the situation. "I didn't mean I didn't remember you, I definitely do. It's just that-" He was silenced before he could finish by a hand pressing something up against his mouth. A strip of something firm, which molded its form and latched onto his skin seconds after it touched him. It sealed his lips firmly shut, so he could barely make a sound.

"I won't let your silver tongue distract me today, Laufeyson. My job is to make you regret your failure, and I do not need your voice to confirm my success. I can read your pain in your every movement. In fact… " The hand rose again, this time covering the child's eyes with a slightly softer black strip which similarly molded to his face. "I do not even need to see your eyes."

Blind, mute, and partially immobile, Loki couldn't remember ever feeling more vulnerable. "You should have chosen a sturdier form to hide with. This one will only cause you to feel things more intensely."

He could hear the heavy footsteps, and the sound of something soft being dragged off the stone table. The footsteps circled him, stopping several feet behind him. Terror froze him as the heavy silence filled the room. The few seconds seemed to drag on into an eternity, until a sound that sent his heart plunging into his stomach broke the quiet. The hiss of leather through air. His mind barely had time to recall the sight of his previous self's blood streaked back before the first lash hit and set his skin on fire. He completely disregarded the ache in his shoulders as he violently twisted up away from the brutal sting of the whip, feeling only the agonizing searing of his back that surely had been split wide open. His screams, stopped by the gag, were barely audible although he could feel them trapped in his throat. He would have been crying, he was sure, if it weren't for the strange blindfold.

Pain is a strange thing, in that it can't really be remembered. Times when pain was felt are usually memorable ones, but the actual sensation is almost impossible to accurately recall unless it's currently happening. Loki, who's only memories of real pain were fuzzy at best, had it worse. This hurt him worse than he could have ever imagined anything hurting, and he felt it with the pain tolerance of a young child.

It took a few moments for his arms to tire enough to force him to hang still. His breaths still came in frnatic gasps, but the screams had stopped. Through the chaos in his mond, he heard a dry chuckle. "We're going to need to work on that pain tolerance, little prince."

_Wait, what is he going to-_

Craaaccck

The sound of the leather striking his bare skin reached his ears a split second before the world melted around him in a fiery turmoil of devastating pain. This time he wasn't even given time to stop his screams before the next strike hit. Or before the next, or the next, over and over and over until there was no longer anything in his universe but two feet of shredded skin and a leather whip.


End file.
